Lacuna
by RadeliaPotter
Summary: Held firmly together by one he thought was gone forever, Harry struggles to find his place. However, when Harry finds that those closest to him are hiding something, he begins a search for his own answers and unwittingly throws himself into a criminal inv
1. Chapter 1

**Author notes:** This is a sequel to two other fics as stated in the summary. It is recommended that you read those before reading this.

Also, Lacuna is the last installment in a three-part series. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. :)

First, before I let you continue onto the story, I must extend my many, many thanks to those who have read and reviewed the prequels to this. Also, it goes without saying that I'm greatly indebted to my beta, PadfootsBitch, who has worked wonders throughout the series.

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter One_

It was a quiet night as Remus and Sirius read in the sitting room, listening to tunes play on the Wizarding Wireless. Each had a drink in their hand, and each had their own varying degree of attentiveness in the content they were reading. Sirius had _The Daily Prophet_, but his eyes strayed from the paper to the picture frame just a couple feet from him. It was of Harry. He was in third year, the year in which they had met, and he was sitting by himself in the Common Room. He looked at peace, and moved so little that one could hardly tell that it was a wizard photo.

Remus held a novel that he had just purchased the previous day, but his eyes strayed to Sirius. He bit his lip each time he caught Sirius looking at the picture of his godson, but knew that there was nothing more to say on it. It had been a month now, and all topics had been exhausted as far as Sirius was concerned. His anguish over losing Harry was great and had now come to express it in silence. Remus accepted this, but the acceptance had not come easily. It was still difficult to keep the vow of silence, but one day, he thought Sirius would be ready to talk.

"Master Black," a house elf interrupted their silence. "There is a man waiting to speak to you in the fire. He is saying it's urgent."

"Who is it?" Sirius asked, folding up the paper.

"Misty is not recognising him, Sir. He says he knows Master Black well. Misty thinks Master Black should not speak to him, Sir. He is not looking well. He looks untrustworthy."

Brows furrowing, Sirius stood and went into the next room – his office – where the stranger was waiting with his head in the fire. Remus followed close behind, ready to offer his help. Sirius had not been himself and found it difficult to make simple conversation with anybody other than Remus. Sirius looked back at him and smiled, seemingly grateful for his reassuring presence.

"Sirius!" exclaimed the head. The stranger had a black eye, brown hair, chapped, cracking lips, and a large cut down the side of his face. Misty had been right, Sirius thought, this man did not look good. "I don't know what to do. Draco came here tonight and I thought that maybe he had figured everything out, but he was just here bent on revenge, and he's only just left a few minutes ago. God, Sirius, he left a mess. He killed Theodore Nott and Jimmy Stratham, and I told him I'd clean it up. But…" his voice shook, "I don't know where to start!"

"Hold on!" Sirius held up a hand, sitting on his knees. "Slow down there, lad. Let's start with the basics so that I might understand what the bloody hell is going on. What's your name, and how do you claim to know me?"

The stranger opened his mouth, but immediately closed it, his eyes squeezing shut. "I can't tell you my name," he choked out. "Not because I don't want to, but because I can't, Sirius. A couple days ago… I figured out something that I could say. And it might give you a clue."

Sirius looked to Remus as he sat down, bewildered, and just a little annoyed. "What is it?"

"It's just that… I love Draco."

"How is that to tell me anything?" Sirius asked, his annoyance lacing his voice. All he wanted was to go back in the sitting room with Remus and read. "Why can't you just tell me what your name is instead of proclaiming your love for my godson's husband?"

"I am yo –" He cried out and took a few deep breaths. "I can't!" he said desperately. "I want to! But it hurts! Please, Sirius, think! I love Draco!" When Sirius shook his head, the man whimpered dreadfully. "_I love him_!" the man in the fire exclaimed once more.

Remus placed a hand on Sirius' forearm as he opened his mouth to say something nasty. Sirius looked to him curiously. "You love Draco Malfoy?" Remus asked slowly.

"Yes!"

"For how long?"

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He winced and closed it again. "I can't."

"You need help cleaning up a mess?" Remus continued.

"Desperately."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Theodore Nott's home. Please, Remus, do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I have an idea, but I don't know if I believe it."

"I love him," he repeated to prove his point. "That's all I can give."

"I know. Do you know what I am, lad?"

He furrowed his brow. "You mean a werewolf?"

"Of course. Werewolves have special talents, one of which is sense of smell. You'll have to pass my test before we believe anything."

The stranger nodded. "Yes, I'll do anything, Remus! Please come right now!"

"We'll come through the fire. Step back."

The head disappeared instantly and Remus moved to get the Floo powder. "What the bloody hell is going on, Remus?" Sirius demanded, getting to his feet.

Remus took a pinch of powder between his fingers before he turned to look at Sirius. "I think it's foul play, Sirius, but I believe he's trying to say that he's Harry."

Sirius' face grew stormy within seconds. "And you _believe_ him?"

"Not yet. I'll go and see if he tells the truth. If he is, I'll send for you."

"It's a bloody trap, Remus."

"I'll take that chance to see if it's Harry."

"I can't believe that it would be. Harry's dead. Everybody knows that."

"Stranger things have happened, Sirius. We can't know until we look."

"I'm coming with you," Sirius was determined, moving forward to take a pinch of Floo powder. Remus placed a hand on his chest. "_Not yet_, Sirius, let me go alone. I'll call for you when I've made my decision. You do trust me don't you?"

Sirius was ready to retort, but with Remus' last words, he shut his mouth before he could utter a sound. He stepped back. "Yes. Of course I do."

A small smile lacing his face, Remus reached down and squeezed Sirius' hand. "I'll call you in a minute, all right, Padfoot?"

Sighing, Sirius nodded. "If he's lying, will you let me murder him?"

"I think you know the answer to that." Remus moved away from the darker man and, calling out his destination, stepped into the fire. One dizzying trip later, he was stepping through the fire into the study where the person in question waited anxiously. Remus twitched his nose, letting the smells of the room overtake him. He winced. It smelled of death. Something inside stirred at the smell. It was the werewolf within, crying to get out, wishing it were the full moon. However, the human within him recoiled in disgust. Flexing his jaw, Remus pushed down the feeling and looked around the room. He could see a man he did not recognise lying crookedly against bookshelves, and there were feet sticking out from the couches. He assumed they were Theodore Nott's. "God," he murmured, sickened at the sight. "Draco did this?"

"Yes," the other man whispered. "I've seen him kill before, but he seemed positively demented tonight, like something in him has cracked. I've never heard him sound like that."

Remus approached him as he spoke, trying to block out death and focus on the living. The emotions coming from this man seemed to be real, he analysed. His blue eyes held tears and seemed a bit unfocused as he looked to Remus, as if he were having trouble seeing without glasses.

"He was mad," he continued, his voice getting quieter. "And it kills me, because he's been fed information that isn't true."

"About your death?" Remus questioned.

"Yes. Remus! It was Nymphadora Tonks! They made her change everything she could to look like me. They gave her potions and put spells over her so that she wouldn't change when she died. It wasn't me, Remus." "Tonks is fine. Andromeda says she's on holiday." Remus did not believe his words as he said them. The whole Tonks family had been acting strange for some time now. Andromeda was like a recording whenever somebody asked about her daughter. What this person was saying was ringing true in the back of Remus' mind.

"No, Remus. You know that's not true."

Remus stopped just in front of him, and he should be able to smell this man, but all he was letting himself smell was death. His nose did not want to gear towards him in fear of what he might find. What scared him the most, finding out it was in fact Harry, or if it was a pretender, he could not be sure.

"Remus?"

He shook himself. "Yes." He reached into his pocket for his wand and magically removed a small part of the other man's hair. Holding it in his hand, the smell overpowered him and he staggered back a step. It was so familiar, so reassuring, and such a heartbreaking relief, that a quiet sob escaped from Remus' throat. "Harry," he whispered.

Harry laughed, tears coming to his eyes. He bounced on his feet, unable to confirm or deny. Remus stared for a few moments before engulfing him with a hug. "Everybody has been so miserable, Harry, you have no idea. And Draco… Merlin, Draco will be so happy."

Harry nodded his cheek against Remus'. "I know. I just… I thought he figured it out and I was so happy to see him. Of course I couldn't say anything."

Pulling away, Remus offered a small smile. "No use dwelling on what's happened. I'm sure he would have gone through with this even if he had known. I'm assuming you have a glamour charm on you of some sort?"

"I…"

"Can't say," Remus finished. "Sirius is waiting at the manor. I'm sure he's going stark raving mad just about now. I should try to remove the spell on you so that he can see for himself that it's you. He wanted to kill you."

Harry offered a meek laugh. It took more than five minutes for Remus to figure out the countercharm for the glamour placed on Harry. When it finally faded, Remus had to shake himself again to get out of his trance. He just could not believe that this was happening. Harry was alive. "I'll call Sirius here," he whispered finally, a small sheen of sweat on his forehead.

A minute later, Sirius stepped through the fire, rage contorting his face. But as soon as he set eyes on Harry, it disappeared. He looked from Remus to Harry. "Remus… it's not really him, is it?" he whispered.

Remus nodded. "I'd recognise his scent anywhere, Sirius. It's Harry."

Although he had done nothing to exert himself extensively, Remus felt exhaustion overtake him as Sirius moved forward to inspect Harry for himself. "You look like hell," he faintly heard Sirius say. Remus went to sit on the couch, collapsing against the back.

It seemed like hours before Harry and Sirius finally came to stand over Remus. They were next to Nott's body, and were pondering what to do when Remus finally blinked, coming back to reality. He checked his watch. It had only been three minutes since he had sat.

"What do we do about this?" Sirius asked, looking to Remus. "We can't hide it. Somebody will notice when two seemingly good citizens turn up dead."

The three fell silent for a few moments. "I'll take the blame," Harry spoke up.

"You can't do that, Harry. You'll go to Azkaban," Remus protested.

"Yes, I can do that, Remus. They held me prisoner for over a month. They only kept me alive so long for their amusement. Every time Draco was on the news, they'd come show me, or they'd make me listen. I heard him on the Wizarding Wireless at the funeral." Harry shivered. "That was worse than death," he swallowed, "listening to his pain like that." A slow smile formed over his face. "I can't wait to see him as me, and be able to tell him my name. I can't wait to hold him again and tell him that I'll always be here." They fell silent again, Remus and Sirius not knowing what to say. "Anyway," Harry shook himself, "I can and I will say that I did it. I'll tell them that they were going to kill me and I was just protecting myself."

"Are you sure, Harry? It's a good idea in theory, but something could always go wrong."

"I'm sure. I'll do it to protect Draco."

"Okay," Sirius shook his head. "I'll call Kingsley."

"I need to see Draco."

"We'll track him down as soon as we can," Remus offered.

"I _need_ him to know, Remus."

"I know, Harry. But for now, you need to be tended. You still have a powerful curse on you, and I notice you're limping. You need medical attention, so don't worry about Draco. We'll get him to you as soon as possible."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but found it was useless. Kingsley was stepping through the fire then, awe on his face as his eyes settled on Harry. It was going to be a long night, Harry thought dismally.

It indeed was a long night, and it was not until seven the next morning that Harry got to rest. The Healers at St. Mungo's were quick to realise the curse on Harry that made him unable to speak of anything about himself, and removed it within minutes. The other injuries were mostly old, but the new ones were not serious, so were quickly healed, and all Harry had to do was take it easy for a couple weeks.

Harry chose to give an interview to _The Daily Prophet_ right away so that wild stories were not spread, and he hoped that Remus would get to Draco before it was published. Remus left an hour after the Aurors arrived to look for Draco. Harry had informed him that he should look at the Malfoy Manor first, because Draco had said he was going to go there. But the werewolf had yet to return. _The Daily Prophet_ was grabbed at wildly that morning by wizards and witches everywhere, who read the headline: **_Harry Potter Found Alive! Exclusive Interview!_** A large picture of Harry was on the cover. He looked tired and worn, the cut across his face having gauze spread across it, the bags under his eyes testimony to his hardship. He was talking in the picture, answering a question the reporter had asked him.

_"I just want everybody to know the real story," Harry Potter-Malfoy stated from St. Mungo's early Tuesday morning. "From the beginning to the end… right now." _

"And what is the beginning, Mr. Potter?"

"The night I was killed."

The people of the Wizarding world sat in awe as they read the entire story from beginning to end. It continued to a narrative of Sirius' and Remus' discovery of Harry, to the _Prophet's_ entrance into the story. But the reporter did not carry on too long, as the interview was what everybody was waiting for. When the morning papers had quickly sold out, the Wizarding Wireless bought the recorded interview and played it on air every three hours.

There were a select few who got to hear the story firsthand from Harry. Those people were the Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus. However, they did not get to hear it without a fight first. There was still no word on Draco, and if Harry had been able to leave the hospital without anybody noticing, he would have done so. Remus had come back from Malfoy Manor empty handed, with no explanation as to why even Narcissa was absent. Kingsley Shacklebolt had volunteered his help in the search for Draco, and was currently out looking, but at three in the afternoon there was still no word.

"I want Draco here," Harry muttered obstinately for what felt like the millionth time in the past six hours. "He needs to know."

Molly Weasley comfortingly smoothed back his hair. "Don't worry about it, dear. There are excellent people looking for him."

"I _know_ that, but that still doesn't help the fact that _they haven't found him_! I want him to be here!"

Hermione sat on the other side of the bed, across from Mrs. Weasley and gently squeezed his hand. "Harry, I understand, but you'll need to relax," the younger woman quietly replied.

"I don't know about anybody else, but I'd like for him to tell us the story!" Fred Weasley spoke up by the door.

"Read the paper!" Ginny scolded him, though she had been putting off reading the paper and listening to the radio in the hopes that she would hear a more detailed version from the source. George called her on it.

"And you're one to talk, Ginny? You've been carrying on about it all day, about how you won't read the paper to see what happened."

"Quit pestering him!" Mrs. Weasley reprimanded her children. "Arthur!"

Mr. Weasley, who had been bouncing on the balls of his feet, looked over to his wife. "Yes, dear?"

"I know you have the paper on you, give it to one of those hooligans and tell them to quit pestering Harry!"

Mr. Weasley reached into his pocket and obligingly handed it to Ginny. "You heard your mother." Ginny scowled as she grabbed at the paper, but she did not open it.

Harry sighed as a nurse entered the room to add to the ruckus, but did not complain anymore. "You have a visitor who says he would like to see you, if only to congratulate you on your continued inability to use your head, and on finding such spectacular dumb luck as always."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Did he tell you to say it exactly like that?"

The nurse smiled. "He threatened to smile at me if I didn't."

"What a sour, old bat," Harry grinned. "Send him in."

The nurse left and a few moments later, Severus Snape stalked in, black robes billowing out behind him as usual. "How corking it is to see you, Professor!" Fred slapped him on the back. Snape glowered at him. "Just as happy to see me, I spot. Splendid!" Fred's fake smile vanished as Snape turned to Harry and he backed off grimacing.

"Potter, I feared I'd come to see that you were in perfect health. Will nothing ever kill you, or shall I die knowing that you're still perfectly safe?"

"You shall live seven lives and still know that I'm safe – terribly old, but safe."

"That is what I was afraid of."

"And what of you?" Harry asked. "Will you always be so pale and unpleasant to speak to?"

Snape sneered at him, but made no reply. "Molly," he nodded his head when she smiled at him. He looked around the room, his brows furrowing. "I would have thought I would see Draco attached to you, Potter. Where is he?"

"Nobody knows," Mrs. Weasley rushed before Harry could get a word in and start another rant. "He's disappeared."

"And nobody is looking for the fool?"

"There's at least three people searching right now," Mr. Weasley supplied, stepping toward the bed. "There's been no trace of him yet – of Narcissa either. When nobody turned anything up by lunch, we started hoping he would see the paper or listen to the radio, and try to find Harry here. But no such luck yet."

Snape stared at Harry all the time he was being informed. "Do you have any ideas where he might be, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I only thought of our home, Malfoy Manor, your house, or maybe even some pub somewhere, but none of those searches turned up anything." He shook his head. "My only guess now is that he's with Narcissa somewhere." He and Snape looked each other in the eye, both thinking along the same lines. They needed to find Draco as soon as possible before something happened.

Snape took a step back, still staring at Harry. "I will help in looking for him. I have a few ideas in where he might be if not with Narcissa as you suggest. As for now," he looked disdainfully around the room. "I suggest for you to either get some rest, or tell these ravenous wolves exactly what happened before they start gnawing on your ankles."

Harry grinned. "Yes, Sir." Snape raised an eyebrow and turned to leave. "Oh, and Severus?" he called. When he turned, Harry offered him a kind smile. "Thank you."

Snape sneered and left the room.

When he left, everybody was staring expectantly at Harry. He sighed, and adjusted himself on the bed. "I don't understand why none of you can read the paper to find out what happened. But all right, I'll tell you myself."

A chorus of cheers rang out from the Weasleys. Ron, who had been sitting at the end of the bed, smiled faintly at his friend. He had been quiet all day, apparently trying to take everything in stride.

"As Fred and George know, I went to their shop to work. They left around half past five that evening and I was left to close shop. Everything was fine until about five minutes to the hour. I was nearly done with everything when Theodore Nott came in."

"I thought he was cute back in Hogwarts," Ginny confessed quietly, blushing.

The twins groaned. "Gin, you didn't have to tell us that. That rat-faced little slime."

"I was in third year!" she defended. "Sorry, Harry, go on."

He smiled kindly at her. "It's all right. Anyway, I thought he was being unnaturally nice to me, inviting me out for a drink. Of course I said no," he replied quickly to Ron's look. "But he kept pestering me, even when I kept refusing. I basically pushed him out of the store with me as I was locking up, because he clearly wasn't there to buy anything. It was slow in Diagon Alley by that time, so nobody was around to notice when he pulled me by the side of the building. He said he wanted to talk in private, and he was nice at first, asking how Draco was, but I started getting impatient and kept checking my watch. He got annoyed and started getting forceful with me. I Disapparated when he reached into his pocket for his wand, but he grabbed onto me and was transported with me. We were just outside of my flat in the hall. I wanted to get Draco, but didn't want to bring him into whatever was happening, so I didn't really know what to do." Harry drew a breath, looking down to his lap. "Then he said:"

_"Nice of you to bring me to your flat, but I really wasn't looking for an easy fuck tonight." _

"And is that what you think I do? Bring strange men home at night and let them have their way with me while Draco watches?" Harry tried prying Nott's hand from his arm, but he held fast.

"Isn't that what it's like for all faggots? I've always thought that your kind think of nothing but sex."

"Well, you've been misinformed, now let me go."

Harry slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew his own wand, hiding it from sight. "What do you want with me?"

"Only what you've taken from me."

"I've never taken anything from you, Nott. You're delusional."

"A life for a life, isn't that what they say?" Nott grinned.

"I think the saying is 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.'"

"Or even 'an eye for an eye makes the world go blind.' But it's all the same, wouldn't you say?"

"No, I wouldn't. And who's life are you avenging, Nott?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Considering you're holding me against my will at the moment, I would_ like to know actually." Harry pointed his wand and stuck the tip against Nott's side. "Leave here. Now. We have no business with each other." _

What followed was a small scuffle in which both men's wands were knocked from their hands, and awkward punches were thrown. When Harry had Nott pinned against the wall opposite his flat, he smiled, thinking he had the advantage. But before he knew what was happening, Nott lifted his arm and crashed something solid into the side of his head and all went black.

The hospital room was silent as Harry finished the first part of his story. "So… you still had no idea what he was doing there?" Ron asked, speaking up for the first time in some while.

"Besides for the fact that he was probably avenging somebody whom had been killed, I had no idea, no," Harry shook his head. "I woke up a couple hours later in some sort of dungeon. Nott and Jimmy Stratham were there talking outside of the room I was being held in. They must have drugged me because I didn't feel right and the hit to the head didn't really help. Then as I was trying to listen to what they were saying, somebody in another corner of the room said my name."

"There was somebody else there?" Hermione said aghast.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Harry whispered. "They wanted her Metamorphmagi skills. Apparently they had been forcing all sorts of potions on her for a week, and placed complicated spells over her so that when she changed next, it would be permanent even when she died."

"How awful," Ginny murmured.

"Nott and Stratham came in a little later and started force-feeding me potion. They knew I am 'immune' to the Imperius, so they wanted me to be as obedient as possible. I felt like I was air for hours. Anything they told me, I gave not a second thought. I hardly remember some of it, but I do remember going with them to my flat. They had sent Tonks ahead of us disguised as me. She was to act like there was nothing wrong, like there was nothing amiss."

"Why did she go along with it?" Sirius asked.

"They threatened to kill her family," Harry whispered. "They had already got to the Tonks as you probably know. They've been under the Imperius ever since then." Remus nodded from his chair in the corner, but did not say anything.

"They dressed me in a Death Eater robe and mask and told me not to say anything, not to do anything. Being under all of those potions, I couldn't get the mind to do anything anyway. They didn't even have to say anything." He drew a shuddering breath. "I watched everything happen. I watched Nott kill Tonks and I watched Draco scream and scream and _cry_. It never hit me though until everything wore off, and I realised that Draco and everybody else thought I was dead – more importantly _Draco_ thought I was dead. Then I realised that I didn't really have a way out of there because nobody knew to look for me. Because of that, I would never be able to tell Draco that it hadn't been me."

"I don't understand," George scratched his head. "Why would they stage your death like that and then do nothing about Draco?"

"Well, I found out later that they had planned to kill Draco then, but Ron and Hermione showed up. Which by the way, I have never figured out how you knew to come."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Draco called us right before you… well, Tonks got there, and he was simply out of his mind with worry about where you were. I was in bed, and Ron was the one who talked to him. Even when Ron told me that everything was fine and that you had just arrived home, I still had a gross feeling in me. I didn't say anything though, and I was about to get out of bed because I thought Ron was asleep."

"But I was having the same feeling as she did," Ron said, smiling slightly at her. "I said, 'let's go.' So, we went."

"I just wish I had said something right when he had come back to bed," Hermione shook her head. "Maybe we could have done something more."

"You saved Draco, and that's the important thing," Harry squeezed her hand and nudged Ron's leg with his foot. "You couldn't have known that I was under the mask."

"If their plan had gone well, what would they have done with you? I don't understand the point of making such a circus out of it," George said, still looking quite puzzled.

"It's just how they decided to do it. They wanted to cause as much pain as possible for us, so they seemingly killed me in front of Draco, and they were going to kill Draco in front of me. They could not have caused as much pain if I had died first. I don't know what they were planning to do after killing Draco. My theory is that they wanted to kill me right then, replace my body with Tonks and leave, but since it didn't quite work out… we can never really say."

"They kept you for a long time afterwards though," Remus pointed out.

"Yes. I think they were having too much fun with torturing me with Draco's anguish. Besides that, I think they were brewing another plan to get him, and in turn get me. I just spent the past month trying to figure out a way to get out, and then Draco showed up last night…." He smiled slightly. "I was so happy to finally see a friendly face and I was so sure that he knew who I was. But then he looked at me with such a vacant face when I said something about not being touched by somebody who cared about me in so long."

Harry looked towards the door, seeing Draco even though he was not there. "I just want to see the look on his face when he sees me again," he smiled sadly. "I can't wait," he whispered, "to hold him again. I miss him."

"We'll find him," Hermione told him firmly, tears in her eyes as she watched him. "We'll find him. Soon."

Soon turned into days and still there was no sign of Draco. Harry had been released from the hospital on Wednesday morning with a clean slate of health. He went home to his empty flat. He removed the bloodstain from the carpet with next to no effort. Draco had been scrubbing at it, he could tell, but to no effect. Other than that, the place was clean, spotless even, as if Draco had gone on a cleaning spree to kill the time alone. The thought of the blond cleaning made something inside of Harry ache. Draco never cleaned. If the place had been a little messy, Harry would feel a little better somehow. He did not know why, but of this he was sure.

Harry spent the days in his flat, letting only his close friends in to visit. The media was always outside, waiting for some glimpse of him, but he never gave the satisfaction. The Weasleys invited him over for dinner but he declined, worried that if he left, Draco would show up while he was gone. The days were lonely, spending them lifelessly watching the television, and looking at pictures. He found himself constantly looking to the picture of himself that he hated. It was when Draco had been giving him a mind-altering blowjob and had suddenly gotten up and taken a picture of him. He laughed over the picture a few times and bit back the hurt at other times. At night, he would remember that day and reach beneath the covers and touch himself until he was left gasping for Draco and empty of any emotion.

Four days from his release from the hospital, Sirius and Remus came for a visit and forced him to come to Black Manor. Harry left only after leaving a note at the foot of the bed for Draco in case he came home. He spent the night in his old room, going to bed drunk with scotch and seemingly not a care in the world. There were dreams of Draco that night, but he wouldn't remember them in the morning. Even if he did, he would force himself not to think on it.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up! It's half past eleven!"

Harry groaned, rolling over in his bed. The last thing he wanted to do was get up for the day. What was the point? Sirius, who was the one outside his bedroom door yelling for him to wake, began pounding on the door.

"Wake up, Harry! Come on, you can't sit around and mope all day!"

"Stop pounding on the bloody door! If I want to lie around all day, that's my decision!"

"Harry, I insist that you stop being a child. Life hasn't been fair to you…. Hell, it hasn't been fair to any of us, but you can't sit around and forget that there's a world going on around you."

"When you hear news on Draco, come back and tell me that there's still a world to live in. Until then, Sirius."

There was a long silence and Harry sighed, settling down to fall back to sleep. Harry was tired, and it would have shown had he the energy to get up to look in the mirror.

"Harry, that's the thing," Sirius said suddenly, making Harry groan. "You've received an owl from Narcissa Malfoy this morning. I was going to wait until you woke up by yourself, but since you're intent on sleeping everything aw—"

Sirius stopped, because Harry had flown out of bed as soon as he heard 'Narcissa' come from his godfather's mouth, and threw the door open. Sirius looked a bit surprised but then calmly held out the letter.

"And Harry," Sirius started again with a deep breath, "After you read that, there's something you should see in the paper. I have a feeling that that is what Narcissa is writing to you about."

Harry nodded, his hands trembling as he opened the parchment. It read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,  
Firstly, I would like to express my relief to hear of your continued health. I was quite taken aback to hear of your supposed death, and quite fearful for how my Draco would take the news. He did not fare so well with it, I'm afraid. He came to me the night in which you were recovered, and I helped to console him the best I could. I fear that he was beyond solace by the time he arrived home.  
He, Draco, is the reason why I have decided to write to you. I offered him his old room the night he came to the Manor when he seemed disinclined to leave my presence. He took it with many thanks, and I would not lie to you and say I was not a little pleased. It had been so long since I had been able to spend any time with my son.  
However, I came to realise that his grief was so deeply embedded into him that I could not get through to him. I suggested a mini-break to him, so we went to a secluded spot in Greece. His grief over losing you was only aggravated further. We came back to Wiltshire sooner than we had anticipated, just last night. When dinner was announced, he did not come down, and for the next few hours I worried on his whereabouts.  
He arrived back unharmed, however, and though he did not say where he went, I believe he went somewhere that reminded him of you. His spirit was calmer than several hours previous, and I was encouraged. I thought he would get better. This morning when I woke, I went to check on him. To all appearances, he was sleeping soundly. But when I tried to wake him, he did not stir.  
I wanted to inform you of this before you read it in the paper. You are his husband, and as such, I am positive that you love him very much. I'm sorry to have to tell you such dreadful news, but my son, Draco, is dead. I have been told that he drank a bottle of the most potent of poisons, and the healers assure me that he died instantly without pain. I hope that this is of some comfort to you as it is to me.  
Harry, we must take comfort in something with this. I feel awful for taking him to Greece. If we had just been home, we would have seen the announcement in the paper that you were alive, and Draco would not have felt the need to end his own life.  
I hope this letter reaches you before you see the Daily Prophet, and I hope that I will see you at the wake tomorrow night. I have begun making arrangements already. If you want a say in any of it, you may owl me your ideas. I fear I'm not in any condition for visitors at the moment.  
Again, I'm truly sorry, and I hope that you'll have plenty of support around you at this time. I hope for the sake of your family, you do not choose the path Draco chose.  
__With sympathy,  
Narcissa Malfoy_

* * *

**Author notes:** If you had read between the lines in the last couple chapters of RY, you would have seen that Harry is alive:) I understand that some of you are not much for angst, but it's what I'm about. I don't function without it because I'm somewhat of a drama queen. So, you can expect plenty of it in this fic. But, I do promise a happy ending of my own variety. It will never please everybody, but there is not much I can do about it. At any rate, it would not be a happy ending if there wasn't angst involved in-between, would it?

If you are interested in updates and teasers, please feel free to join my Yahoo! group.

And as always, please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes:** First, many apologies for the extended wait. I did not intend for this to happen, but life happens. There's nothing to be done about it. Second, thanks to my beta and everybody who read and reviewed the first chapter. I hope I have not scared you away yet.

I feel inclined to give a disclaimer here as I have not given one in quite a while. None of this is mine. I just use them and abuse them. Also, the lyrics are from Green Day. The song is Wake Me When September Ends.

* * *

Here comes the rain again  
falling from the stars  
drenched in my pain again  
becoming who we are

As my memory rests  
but never forgets what I lost  
wake me up when September ends

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Two_  
:.:.:.:.:

The letter fluttered from Harry's suddenly numb hand, and landed some feet away, the words of Narcissa taunting. Breathing was suddenly difficult, and everything seemed to fade out.

"Harry," a soothing voice whispered in his ear.

"It's not true," Harry whispered, blinking his eyes open. He found that he was now leaning against Sirius. "It's not true, Sirius."

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know what to tell you."

"Let me see the paper."

"Okay."

Harry was led to Sirius's office where Remus sat in waiting on the couch. He stood upon their entrance, his brow knitted in worry. Sirius and Remus exchanged a look and sat Harry down. Remus handed him the paper.

_Harry Potter's Husband Found Dead by Mother_

it screamed across the front page. It was all Harry needed to read. He threw the newspaper aside and buried his face in his hands. It just was not plausible. Draco was not weak. He would not kill himself just because he was grief stricken. He would be able to pull through. He wanted to cry, but felt too numb to.

"Harry," Remus said quietly after the silence had become too much.

"It's not real," Harry stated firmly. "Draco would never kill himself." He looked up, staring at the other two men harshly. "You both knew him well. You _know_ he was much too stubborn. He would have found another way to deal with his grief. You _know_ it."

"Harry, it's hard to say what anybody would do in such a situation," Sirius explained gently. "Draco was having a very rough time dealing with it. He thought he saw you being murdered. He was traumatised by it, and he was in shock for days afterward. I don't know about anybody else, but after it happened…" Sirius shook his head and looked to the floor. "I didn't see a trace of Draco anymore. It was like you had taken him with you."

"BUT I DIDN'T GO ANYWHERE!" Harry was on his feet without his realising it, and he was surprised when Remus pushed him back down.

"He didn't know that, Harry. None of us knew that. We all thought you had gone."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised immediately. "But Sirius, you said to me once before the battle at Hogwarts that you would take care of Draco if I died. Did that only go for that battle? Was it a one time promise?" "Harry, I know I failed. I could have tried harder."

"Sirius and I both tried taking care of Draco," Remus was quick to defend. "So did Ron and Hermione for that matter, but he didn't want to be cared for. He shut us out completely."

Harry thought about how he saw Draco kill the men who had kidnapped him. Draco had said that he was going to go to his mother's that night, and that certainly added up to what Narcissa told him in the letter. But it certainly did not account for what the rest of the letter said. Maybe the mini-break was the truth, but something was off. Draco could not have committed suicide. It just was not in his nature to do something so final. It was wrong.

"I don't believe Narcissa," he declared finally after some minutes of silent deliberation. "I want somebody to check on the body. I want somebody to interrogate the healers, and I want to be there when they do it."

"Harry, don't do this to yourself," Remus pled. "It's already difficult enough, isn't it?"

"Remus, to all appearances, I was dead. Nobody thought to check the body for any glamour charms or permanence spells to see if it was a Metamorphmagi in disguise. If somebody had thought of that, we wouldn't be in this situation. Draco would have known that it wasn't me who died that day. Sirius, you must have some contacts that will do this for you. I _need_ to know for myself if it is really Draco we're burying, if it's somebody else, or if it is anybody at all."

Sirius nodded. "I'll see what I can do, Harry. In the meantime, I think you should get cleaned up, get something to eat, and rest a little. It's going to be exhausting these next few days, no matter what happens."

"I'll see what I can do," Harry replied in kind and quickly left the room. He returned to his bedroom and went into the bathroom where he ran the water into the bathtub. Slowly, he stripped of his clothing, trying very hard to think of nothing except how good the water would feel against his skin, and how nice the soap would be. When the tub was full, he climbed in and leisurely submersed his body into the hot water. He tried very hard not to think about anything, but before long his mind was slipping back to Draco and how his cold body was probably lying in an even colder room somewhere waiting to be buried. Harry's breath caught in his throat, which had constricted. He tried to stop the sob from escaping, but soon his body was wracked with sobs and he could not stop the sound. He was crying and he could not stop. They were choked cries full of sniffling, and cries of absolute pain.

Harry wanted to stop. He felt like a fool, because he was sure that Draco had never cried like this when he thought Harry was gone, but his sobbing would not stop. The sound felt like it was cutting his ears, so he went completely under the water so that he would not have to hear the pitiful cries anymore. The water seemed to dry his tears; either that or it was the lack of air that prevented him from crying anymore. After all, he could still feel the cries of agony inside his heart. Finally, the desperate need for air was too much and he shot out of the water gasping for breath.

Sound hit his ears once more and he nearly winced with it. He could hear the pounding of his blood in them, and thought himself unworthy to have it still pumping while Draco did not. Somebody was calling his name again, but he did not want to listen, so he chose not to respond.

"Harry!" the door burst open. Hermione blushed and turned around. "I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't know you were in the bath."

"It's fine. What does it matter?"

"Well… Harry, I'm sorry about Draco. I just… can't believe he would do it."

"Neither can I," Harry said tonelessly, grabbing at the shampoo to lather up his hair. The tears were still fresh in his memory and he hoped that his face was not splotchy with them. He sniffed.

"Yes, Remus and Sirius said that you don't believe he killed himself. Sirius is calling people to see if they know anything. I think he's setting up an appointment for tomorrow for you two to go check it out."

"Good."

"But Harry, that's not why I'm here. Well, it is partly, because I just read about it in the paper this morning, and I was going to come, but then somebody came to my house looking for you. I was really confused, but…. I'm rambling. I'm sorry. But Harry, they're from…."

Harry dunked beneath the water to rinse the shampoo out of his hair so he missed what Hermione said. "I'm sorry, they're from where?" He spit water from his mouth and rubbed it from his eyes.

"They're from Australia. Well, not really, but they just arrived from Australia. I brought them here, Harry. It's the oddest timing that they should arrive now, and I can't believe it, but it's a true miracle, Harry that they've come on this day. Get out of the bath so that you can meet them."

Harry sighed. He did not want to be around people today. He wanted to be by himself. But he complied with Hermione's command and quickly dressed while she went back into the bedroom. When he emerged, she gave him a firm hug. He clung to her, pressing his cheek against her head. "I don't know what to do with myself, Hermione. I feel like my whole life is over."

She pulled away, worry etched into her face. "I hope that what these two men have brought will help cheer you up then, Harry. I really, really hope that it will make you happy because she's beautiful."

"She?"

Hermione nodded, a small smile lighting her face. "Come, and everything will be explained."

Hermione took Harry's hand, and he was led to the first floor in the living room. Remus was there, facing the fireplace, holding something in his arms, while two men sat in chairs, one whom was familiar. This one stood and smiled at Harry in a way that made Harry want to hex him. It reeked of the words, 'I'm so sorry for your loss, but I have something to cheer you up.' Harry hated him in that moment. What could he possibly want right then other than Draco? Besides, the man who tried giving him and Draco a baby was certainly the last person on earth he wished to see. It only added to the pain.

"Healer Widduling," Harry greeted instead, forcing something that resembled a smile onto his face. They briefly shook hands. "What brings you here today?"

"Mr. Potter… I am sorry for coming on such a day. I'm sorry to hear of Mr. Malfoy. Truly, I am."

"Thank you."

"If I could have forestalled this meeting in any way, I would have. However, I don't believe that we could have waited. I felt this had to be cared for as expediently as possible."

Harry sighed, sitting down across from the healer. "What is it?"

"I'll jump right into it then. Recently, this young man called me to Sydney…" Here he pointed to the man beside him. He looked worse for wear, his face needing a shave, and bags beneath his eyes. The only thing he seemed to have done to prepare for this meeting was to dress nicely. Even his hair was out of order. "You'll remember Tiada as the woman who carried your baby."

"Of course," Harry swallowed.

"This is Tiada's boyfriend, Mark. Some months ago, about the time Tiada told you of her miscarriage, she used extreme force to make Mark move out of the country, and by extreme force, I mean that she used the Imperius curse." At Harry's questioning look, the healer held up a hand. "I will explain why in a moment. They moved around for some months, but when it finally became apparent that Tiada would not be able to keep moving any longer, they settled on Sydney… where she gave birth to a healthy baby girl."

Harry blinked and swallowed. "She… she had another baby? That wouldn't be possible with the timing. Was the baby extremely premature?"

"No. The baby was, in fact, a month premature, but quite healthy. She was born about three weeks before the due date I gave you and your husband."

"What are you saying?" Harry whispered.

"What I'm saying, Mr. Potter is that Tiada lied about having a miscarriage. She carried your baby near to full term and gave birth to a little girl. Unfortunately, the birth had many complications and Tiada did not survive. When she died, the Imperius curse lifted from Mark, and he realised what he had done. He contacted me two days ago, and I travelled to Sydney promptly to sort things out for you and Mr. Malfoy."

"Why…" Harry swallowed, looking anywhere but at the healer. "Why did she do it?"

"She grew attached," Mark spoke up, leaning forward. He had a soothing voice. "Tiada has always had problems, but early in the pregnancy she couldn't even discern that it wasn't really her baby. I tried telling her that it wasn't, but she would not listen. She came up with the plan by herself, but knew I wouldn't go along with it, so she put the curse on me and then told me what we would be doing. That's when she told you that she had a miscarriage."

Harry sat back and closed his eyes. He was experiencing information overload. First Draco's death and now a baby that had not died. "I'm sorry," he apologised after a few moments. "It's a lot to take in."

"Don't worry about it," the healer assured. "We know that today has been particularly rough for you."

Harry sat in silence for a few more minutes, and finally, taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. "Why didn't you know that she had problems like this, Healer? Couldn't you have looked it up?"

"We always look up the mental health of our clients; potential parents as well as surrogates. However, there was nothing on file for Tiada. She had never sought out any help. For our oversight, we're truly sorry. In the future we plan to be more careful. I'll be employing a psychologist to determine the mental state of those willing to be surrogates to avoid future problems like this."

The news began to settle into Harry's mind. There was a baby girl waiting to see her father for the first time. Urgency spread through him like poison and suddenly he was standing. "Where is she? Does she have a name yet? I want… I _need_ to see her. Is she here?" Harry stopped a whimper before it escaped. "Please!"

Hermione came to his side and rubbed his back soothingly. "She's here, Harry. Remus has her."

Harry looked over. The baby was what Remus had been holding when he entered the room. She was in a pink blanket and to all appearances was sleeping soundly. "She doesn't have a name yet," Remus said as he carried her over. "They saved that for you. I can't tell who she looks like," Remus smiled at Harry, who took a deep breath readying himself to look at her.

"Oh," he breathed, suddenly overwhelmed as Remus started handing her over.

He quickly closed his eyes and took a step back, his breathing erratic now. He fidgeted on his feet. "Oh, I… I… Bugger. Are you sure she's mine?" he asked, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"One hundred percent," Mark replied quietly.

Hermione laid her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Open your eyes, Harry. Look at her."

Slowly, Harry blinked his eyes open, and saw that Remus had tilted her in his direction so that the blanket was no longer blocking his view. Breath catching in his throat, Harry took yet another step back. "I… I can't believe this," he whispered, now unable to take his eyes from her. "She's Draco. She looks like him."

"Yes," Hermione agreed with a smile, "But I think she has your nose."

Harry slowly touched his nose. "Maybe," he granted. "I like her," he said louder now, and felt silly when everybody laughed. He blushed.

"What's going on?" Sirius entered the room, staring bewildered at the baby girl in Remus' arms.

"Can I hold her?" Harry stepped forward now.

"Of course," Remus placed her in his arms. He looked on for a moment as Harry stared in wonder for a moment before leaning down and whispering 'hello' against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open to reveal large, round blue-green eyes clouded with sleep. Remus smiled at Harry's small laugh and then took Sirius by the arm to explain. "If you have no questions," the healer said, standing, "we'll be taking our leave now."

Harry looked up. "Oh… yes, thank you, Healer, and Mark. Really, I appreciate this."

They both nodded, pity-filled looks on their faces, but Harry did not notice. He was looking at his daughter again.

"I'll show you out," Hermione offered and left the room with the two men.

Harry was left alone now with the baby, who yawned widely. He smiled, but felt a sharp ache rip through him. Hermione re-entered the room and came to look down at the little girl. "She really does look like Draco. Mark said he could have sworn she smirked at him yesterday."

The two chuckled slightly before going sober. "Draco always said that we were going to have a girl first. It's what he wanted so badly. And now… we have a girl, and he's not…" Harry's throat closed up. "He's not here to see her. I know what it's like to grow up without parents, but what will it be like for her to know that her daddy never got to see her?"

"I'm sure it will never be too easy for her, but she'll have you at the very least. She won't grow up the way you did and I think you can take comfort in that, Harry. You'll make sure to tell her how much her daddy wanted a little girl, and how much he loved her already without ever meeting her."

Harry shook his head. "I'll never get good at this. I never would have thought to say that, and I'll probably forget it when the time comes that she can comprehend what I'm saying."

"You'll do fine, Harry. And you'll have plenty of help. However, I think you should take this one step at a time."

"What's the first?"

"Give the poor child a name," Hermione smiled.

"Oh," he grinned sheepishly. "That'll come in useful."

The baby began to fall asleep again and they watched her, both thinking on names. However, Harry kept coming up blank because he and Draco had never really agreed on any name. There was only one that came to mind and the more he thought on it, the more he liked it.

"Ayida," he whispered. "Draco really liked Ayida."

"It's beautiful," she whispered, pulling the blanket more snugly around Ayida. "What about a middle name?"

Harry looked stricken. "We never talked about middle names!"

"Don't worry about it, Harry. You named her something that Draco wanted, give her a middle name you like."

"I don't know what I like."

Hermione sat on the couch, looking thoughtful. "Well… your mum's name was Lilith or Lily?"

"Lilith… Ayida Lilith?"

"I think it's beautiful, but it's up to you, Harry."

There were no other options in Harry's thoughts. And he did like the name. He leaned down and ran his nose through her brown tufts of hair, inhaling her sweet scent. Tears began welling in his eyes, the thought of Draco never able to see their daughter filling his head. "Your daddy loved you," he choked out and kissed her forehead, "Ayida Lilith. And so do I."

Hermione coughed to clear her throat as she stood, tears making her eyes glassy. "There's shopping to be done, Harry. If you want to stay home, that's fine. I'll be fine picking up things for Ayida by myself."

"I'll come," Harry nodded. "I want to pick out some clothes for her. Draco and I never did get around to it."

"Do you have everything you need at your flat?"

"I think so. We might need nappies and formula."

"That'll be our first items to pick up then. I'll go tell Sirius and Remus what we're doing."

Hermione stopped in front of Harry and Ayida, staring down at the baby girl before looking up to Harry. She cupped his cheek in her palm and reached up to kiss his cheek. "You'll do great, Harry. It might be difficult, but you'll do great. I'm sure of it."

She left the room, leaving Harry alone with his daughter. So much despair had filled him not even an hour previous, and now he felt that some of it had vanished. Draco was still gone, but he left his daughter for Harry, and for now, that was enough. "You'll be fine with just me, right, Ayida?" She continued sleeping.

"I hope so too."

Harry decided that they needed to stop at his flat for a carrier that he could wrap around his shoulder, and Ayida could lie comfortably in it as he shopped. Hermione kept smiling at him whenever he suggested something and it began to annoy him. When he walked through the front door to the flat, she had her hand on his back as if it would make walking easier. He wished she would stop.

"I think it's in the nursery," he said, stepping away from her.

"Do you want me to take Ayida?"

Harry clutched her more closely to him. "No, I'm fine."

She smiled at him again. He turned so that he wouldn't have to see it. Glancing into the living room as he passed, his eyes went to the mantle, a habit he had gained in the past couple days. Instantly, he noticed that there were pictures missing – the one of him that he had been looking at, and one of himself and Draco. He stepped into the room and stared at the mantle, confused.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, following him.

"There are pictures missing. I know that they were there when I left yesterday."

Hermione walked to the mantle and studied the empty spaces. "Are you positive?"

"Yes! They were there!"

"Go check to see if anything else is missing."

Harry went into the kitchen, looking around. It looked as if it had been cleaned. There had been quite a few dirty dishes in the sink. "I left dishes in the sink from when I had you and Ron over two days ago, and more that I used afterwards. I never cleaned them. Why would somebody come here, take my pictures and then decide that they needed to do dishes?"

Hermione shook her head, bewildered. "I'm going to check my bedroom," Harry hurried from the kitchen and down the hall, Hermione on his heels. On first glance, there was nothing amiss that Harry could see. He looked around as Hermione neared the bed.

"Did you and Draco always share one pillow?" She pointed to the empty space where Harry's pillow should have been. That's when Harry noticed that the bed had been made.

"They made the bed!" he exclaimed bemused, "And took my pillow!" He looked from the head of the bed, to the foot where he had left the note. It was gone. He hurried around the end and saw that the note had fallen to the floor, face down. Hermione walked to the dresser and then to the closet, which was left open. She sifted through his shirts. She then opened the other side of the closet where Draco's clothes were. Most of them were gone.

"Harry," she said quietly. "Did you get rid of Draco's clothes?"

"No, why would I?"

"They're mostly gone."

"What?" Harry rushed over and saw that she was right. "Are any of mine gone?"

"Not that I could tell."

He went to the other side and began sifting through his clothes. He went through them three times before he realised that there was something missing. His favourite flannel was gone.

"I don't understand," he walked backwards and sat down on the bed. "They took my pictures, did my dishes, made the bed, and took my pillow, my flannel, and Draco's clothes."

The two sat in silence for some time, pondering what might have happened. They stared at each other and after a few minutes, a light seemed to come on in both of their heads. "Narcissa," Hermione whispered just as Harry whispered, "Draco."

"Maybe it was Narcissa who came here after she found Draco and took his things."

"And did my chores, Hermione?" Harry squished his eyebrows together. "That seems unlikely. I think it was Draco."

"When would he have come?"

"Last night. He came here before Greece to get his clothes. He came here again last night when they returned. He came here, saw that there were dishes, did them, and then came in here, made the bed, took my pillow, and my flannel. Then he took the pictures."

"Why?" Hermione was flummoxed.

"I don't know. But it's the only thing that makes sense. He and I are the only ones who can get in here. When I got back here for the first time, it seemed like he had been doing nothing but cleaning. So last night, he did the dishes when he saw them. He was probably really confused. He was going to stay at Malfoy Manor again, but he wanted something from home that reminded him of me. He took my pillow, which is strange, but it's something Draco would do. Then he took my favourite shirt, which I just wore a couple days ago. It probably smelled the most like me. He took it for the smell. He always liked how I smell for some reason. And then… the pictures. Of course he wanted pictures of me. It makes sense."

"But why would he take those things if he was planning to kill himself?" Hermione asked.

Harry felt his lip tremble. "He was not planning on killing himself, that's why. Who would take pictures with them if they were planning something like that? He planned to wake up this morning. Narcissa is lying. He was here!"

"You don't know that any of this is true, Harry."

"No, but I know Draco; and I know that he would never kill himself."

Hermione came to sit by them and she smoothed down Ayida's hair. Harry stared off for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts, but they kept going back to one thing. "I should have stayed. I never should have gone to stay at Sirius'. If I had stayed, Draco would be here right now with me and Ayida." He stood, handing his daughter to Hermione. He stalked from the room back into the kitchen.

"I SHOULD HAVE STAYED!" he screamed and swiped things from the counter.

Hours later, after he and Hermione had picked up everything they needed, they went back to Harry's flat at his insistence. He thought that if Draco truly were not dead, he would come back. Hermione stayed and made them dinner, and just as they were sitting down, a knock sounded at the door. Harry jumped up and swung the door open. He was almost disappointed to see Severus Snape.

"Come in," he stepped back, allowing the older man to enter.

"I heard of your daughter," he said stiffly. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. She's sleeping right now."

"I didn't come to see her. I came to tell you to call off seeing Draco's body tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because it'll be a waste of your time."

"Because he's alive?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No, you fool, because I went to check on it today and it was a waste of time. It was Draco."

"No, it wasn't," Harry shook his head.

Snape sighed. "If you wish to keep holding onto pipe dreams, boy, go ahead, but what I am telling you is the truth. Draco is dead."

"If that's all then," Harry said stiffly, opening the door again.

Snape looked hard at him before he turned around and left without another word. Harry slammed the door behind him and fell limply against the wall. "I can't believe that," he whispered, and then covered his face with his hands, because deep down, he knew that if Snape believed it, it had to be true.

_Fourteen months later…_

"Harry, guess what I've got!"

Ron ran through the door into the dining room, flapping a long envelope around. Harry did not turn around, as he was busy keeping Ayida's food on her tray. She had a certain problem of throwing it around, and Harry had needed to acquire even better reflexes with the use of his wand. "New friends?" he asked hopefully, a small grin lacing his mouth. He flicked his wand as Ayida sent a small handful of peas at him.

"No! You utter prat! What have you been banging on about for two months now, driving us all raving _mad_ might I add?"

"I thought I've been complaining about your need for new friends," Harry continued to tease.

"The tickets!" Ron ignored him.

Harry spun around, ignoring Ayida as she made to throw another piece of food. She screamed at him. She tended to think it was a game. "Hold on, sweetie," he said absently over his shoulder. "The tickets? The tickets!"

"The tickets!"

Harry grabbed the envelope from Ron's hand and tore it open, quickly reading. "I can't believe you pulled it off, Ron!"

"I told you I would," the redhead smiled, who had been hired in the Magical Games and Sports division five months previously, and had already been promoted once. "I thought they would be a nice birthday present, and I know how much you love those stupid Appleby Arrows."

Harry looked up and grinned. "You're just sore because they slaughtered the Cannons last month."

"I am not!"

"Sure," Harry nodded, sceptically. "I can't believe I'm going to this game! It's sure to be brilliant. All games between the Arrows and Wasps are. You are coming with, aren't you?"

"I don't think I'd let you go without me. Hermione said she'd watch Ayida for you."

Harry clapped Ron on the back. "Thanks for this, mate. This is truly brilliant."

"It was nothing. Besides you deserve it."

Harry paused, and put the tickets back in the envelope, the euphoria quickly wearing off. "Is that what this is, Ron? Pity?"

"I… no."

"Because I'm really sick of people _pitying_ me, Ron."

"Harry, I do not pity you. You deserve it because you never have any fun. You're always with Ayida – not that that is a bad thing – and you never come out for any drinks. You just never have fun. You're always so busy being Daddy that you never seem to be Harry. I thought that this could be something fun for you to do with a friend. Besides, you want this."

"I do fun things," Harry defended meekly.

"Not really."

Harry sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm always on the defence with people the past several months… every time I go out." He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Ron looked lost, as if he were at a loss for words. "I know, Harry. It's okay."

Ayida started screaming then, waiting for Harry to come back to 'play' with her. He turned around and smiled at her. She had grown plump and blonde in her first fourteen months. Her eyes had turned the same radiant shade as Harry's, and her skin was milky white. She still looked remarkably like Draco to Harry, but most people said she looked like Harry. Mrs. Weasley, to be fair, said that Ayida had a nice mixture of both parents.

"I hear you, sweetie," he smoothed her busy hair. "You're putting those loud vocal chords your father gave you to good use, aren't you?" She grabbed the spoon he had put in front of her earlier and banged it on the tray. "Ah," Harry mock sighed, "it's music to my ears, Ayida." She giggled and banged harder.

"Yeah… sounds great," Ron grimaced. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Listen, I have to get back to work, but I'll see you at that game tomorrow, yeah?"

"Of course. I'll be over at your place with Ayida around noon."

"Brilliant. See you then." Ron approached Ayida and placed his large hand on her head, messing her already unruly blonde locks. She giggled up at him. "I hope you're ready to spend the day with Aunt Hermione. She's a right devil, she is."

"No better than your Uncle Ron," Harry put in, pushing Ron from the room. "Go on, then."

Ron waved and left in a flourish.

Harry woke early – an hour before Ayida – to begin preparing for the day. He still had not mastered packing his daughter a bag for when she went somewhere for the day, and so needed a little extra time. It seemed to be a sort of art that he could not master. He always seemed to pack too little. Ayida was a handful after she was changed, fed, and if she was still tired, she waited to move away from Harry until she was clothed. She was walking at high speeds, most of the time not caring where she went, and running into furniture. Harry had been correct months ago when he feared the day she began walking. It was almost like his worst nightmare come to life. Almost. He supposed that he had already lived his worst nightmare.

However, no matter how much trouble she gave him, he would never complain. He enjoyed every waking minute of it. It kept him busy, and being busy meant that his mind was off Draco and his grief over losing him.

By the time Harry had the two bags for Ayida packed, and was ready to go, Ayida was gearing up for lunch. She usually whined continuously until she was fed. Meals were her favourite time of the day, so Harry could feel a headache coming by the time he got to Ron and Hermione's.

"Lunch?" Hermione asked astutely as they walked through the door.

"Yes! How did you know?" Harry plunked the bags onto the floor and placed his daughter in a booster seat Hermione had bought specially for her.

"I heard her whining from your house," she smiled. "I made sandwiches and opened a bag of crisps for you and Ron," she gestured to the table, which was laid out with food and drinks. "Ron insists you have at least one beer today, so I put some out."

"Where is Ron?" Harry asked as he sat in the seat across from Ayida. She screamed at him, obviously expecting him to put the food in front of her. "Ayida Lilith! Be patient!" he scolded getting up from his chair.

"Don't worry about her, Harry," Hermione pushed him back. "I'll feed her. Ron's lollygagging somewhere in the house. He'll be out in a minute."

Feeling particularly hungry himself, Harry grabbed at two tuna fish sandwiches and a large handful of crisps. He passed over the beer and poured milk into a glass. He knew that Ayida did not know the difference, but he did not like drinking in front of her. He was a lightweight. He would be slurring his words within the first few mouthfuls, and he did not want Ayida to be scared because he was acting strangely.

"Hey, mate!" Ron greeted cheerfully. Harry was finishing off his first sandwich and saluted him.

Harry, who wanted to finish his crisps, put one down reluctantly and nodded. He wiped his hands on a napkin and stood to say goodbye to Ayida. "Be good," he said and kissed her forehead and then her cheek. "She'll be ready for a nap within a half hour after she's done eating," Harry told Hermione. "Send me a message if anything goes wrong, or if you need something else from my house and don't know where it is."

"Harry, everything will be okay, and I'm positive you brought everything that we'll need, and possibly more." She eyed the bulging bags with a raised eyebrow. He had overdone the packing, thinking that he did not want to forget anything this time. "Now go have fun. I won't be bothering you until you get home, and then only to know of how much fun you two had." Hermione smiled and kissed both Harry and Ron on the cheek.

"Bye, Munchkin," Ron patted Ayida's head and led the way out of the house.

"Oh, Harry?" Hermione called out to Harry, as he was halfway out the door. "You wouldn't mind if I brought her to see her grandmother, would you?"

Harry turned slowly. "You want to bring her to see her grandmother?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Narcissa?"

Hermione shook her head, an amused smile on her face. "I don't think I'll ever pay a visit to that old croon. I meant Ayida's grandmum, if that makes more sense."

"Oh! Molly… no, I don't mind. I've never heard anybody refer to her as grandmother. Sorry, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "Have fun, Harry."

The trip there was a blur for Harry. The brief mention of Narcissa unsettled him as it always did. Harry saw her once a month when she wanted to visit with Ayida, but otherwise never contacted her for anything. They were two very different people with very different opinions. The only thing that they agreed on was their love for Draco and Ayida, and even that Harry had questions about for Narcissa. Harry would go to the ends of the world for Draco, while it seemed that if Draco had ever done one thing wrong, she would turn her back on him. It irked him.

Not only that, but he knew that Narcissa knew something about Draco's death. It was something in her eyes that told him, but he had no way of proving it. All methods of investigation had stopped months ago because there had been no leads. There had been nothing to suggest that Draco had disappeared or had been murdered. There was no evidence against the supposed suicide. To all appearances, it had happened. Harry had believed so strongly that the suicide was a set-up, but his convictions slowly weakened as time progressed. If there was no way to prove Draco had died another way, or wasn't really dead at all, then there was no other explanation other than that he was dead and had done it to himself.

Harry was tired of wondering and the loneliness he felt at night threatened to consume him every time he reached over and felt that empty space beside him. The ache inside was so deep and so sharp it made breathing painful. Though his convictions were waning, there was something deep inside that said that Narcissa had the answers to stop the pain. If only he knew how to broach the topic. But he hardly knew how to speak to a woman of her class. He felt so inadequate next to her.

"Harry! For Merlin's sake, don't disappear on me, you wanker!" Ron playfully cuffed the back of his head. "You've had that stupid, blank look on your face since we left. What are you thinking about?"

"Narcissa," he said quietly, blinking. They were at the stadium; he realised, on the way to their top seats.

"Well, stop it."

Harry tried, but as they sat in their seats in the top box, he found himself turning around, remembering when he had first laid eyes on Narcissa Malfoy. It had been in the summer before fourth year at the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had been with Lucius and Narcissa. But, of course, at the time, Draco had merely been Malfoy, their most hated schoolmate. Harry remembered how Draco had sneered at them and sat down smugly in his seat. And he remembered how Narcissa looked as if she had smelled something unpleasant. Draco, Harry had thought at the time. She had smelled her son.

He laughed at the memory now, turning around in his seat. Draco, of course, had always smelled quite pleasant, and would have been aghast to find out if he smelled anything but. Harry wanted to tell Draco of that time when he had first seen Narcissa. He knew that he already had informed Draco of it, but it had been when they were enemies. Maybe he could do it now in a friendlier way. The small smile disappeared from his face.

He was doing it again. Sometimes, he forgot that Draco was gone and thought of things that he could tell Draco or something that they needed to talk about, like Ayida. But Draco was gone, and Harry knew this.

"What are you on about?" Ron was standing up, leaning forward to look down at the pitch, so had not noticed the sour look on Harry's face. He sat down and looked at Harry, who had turned his face neutral. "You laughed."

"Oh, I just remembered the first time we saw Narcissa Malfoy at the Quidditch World Cup."

"Didn't I tell you to stop thinking about her? Honestly, you'll give yourself a bloody stroke thinking on she-devils like her. I'll tell you what… you need something to drink. I'll get you something."

Ron left for a few minutes and only missed the teams flying out onto the field. He came back with two butterbeers in hand, one of which he handed to Harry. "Thanks," he tipped the bottle towards the redhead and took a drink.

The game soon started with the Applebys taking the lead within the first five minutes. Harry was on and off of his feet yelling and screaming for his team. He avidly watched his favourite player Matthew Pickleworms, who was a Chaser, and had played for the Applebys since he left Hogwarts nine years ago. Two hours into the game, Pickleworms had scored six times to help keep the lead for his team. Ron was cheering for the Wasps, so by the time the Applebys Seeker had caught the Snitch, was sitting dolefully in his seat. Harry was cheering like a maniac as the Seeker took a victory lap with his team surrounding him. As the team descended to the ground, Ron stood and pulled on Harry's arm.

"Come on; let's go sit in a pub."

"So you can sulk?" Harry grinned, following behind his sulking friend.

"No, so we can say you got away from responsibility for more than three hours."

"Okay, but only this once," Harry ribbed.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ron paused from the path everybody else was taking and turned left around a different corner. Harry frowned and followed him. "Where are you going?"

"To see if we can see anybody famous," he called over his shoulder.

They did not have far to walk before they came out at the pitch. There were reporters flashing cameras and Harry immediately shied away from the lights. Ron looked back at him and stopped walking, instead craning his neck over the crowd to see the players being photographed. Harry began to get tired of waiting after a few minutes, and was about to suggest to Ron that they leave when somebody he recognised came tumbling through the crowd of reporters.

"Oliver Wood," he said in amazement. Wood was dressed in an Applebys uniform, as he had been traded from the Wasps, to the Cannons, to the Applebys. Harry did not recall him playing in this game however.

Wood stopped and looked over. His face split in a grin. "Potter! Why, it's been absolutely ages since I've seen you… in person at any rate. You're usually all over the papers, aren't you?"

"Well…" Harry was at a loss for words.

One reporter, it seemed had caught wind of his name and turned to snap a picture. He cringed inside, but did not show it externally. "And Weasley!" Wood exclaimed. He shook first Harry's and then Ron's hand. "I hear you two did a fantastic job of captain for Gryffindor when you got the chance, what with all that went on back then. No more Quidditch for either of you then?"

"Ron works for Magical Games and Sports in the Ministry, and no, I haven't played in quite a while," Harry said wistfully, looking up. "I've thought lately that I might like to get into it again, but I have a small injury to my arm from the war."

"Ah, that's rotten luck. I broke my hand in practice two days ago," he held up his hand. "The Healer said I can't play until it's not so stiff."

More reporters now noticed their conversation and were snapping pictures. "Listen! I've just had a great idea. The team and I are going to celebrate at my house. Why don't you two stop by and I'll introduce you to them."

"Really?" Harry lit up. "That sounds great! Ron?"

"Yeah," he nodded enthusiastically.

"You two are Appleby fans, right?"

"My favourite team!" Harry confirmed nodding earnestly.

"Mine too!" Ron lied.

"Really?" Wood asked sceptically. "Aren't you a Cannons fan?"

"Was," Ron waved him off. "They're useless though, aren't they?"

"Quite," Wood grinned. "Anybody have a piece of parchment?" he suddenly called out. A reporter near them handed him a sheet from a notebook and then handed him her quill, blushing. "Thanks, doll," he winked. "This is the Apparition point at my house. It's probably safe to go now. You won't be the first ones there." He folded it up and handed it to Harry. "Open it away from prying eyes. We don't want just anybody there."

"Right." Wood began walking the way they came and began turning left as Harry and Ron continued on their path.

"Good game today, right boys?" Wood grinned. Harry turned back to agree, and stopped walking when he saw who had come to meet Wood. It was Matthew Pickleworms. He never thought he would become star struck by another person as he knew how annoying it could be, but he truly admired Pickleworms. Harry felt his eyes slowly move down Pickleworms body, noting much too clearly how utterly naked he was. He seemed to have just stepped out of the shower and had only managed to slip on his boxers. He was fit… very fit and tan. The complete opposite of Draco, he could not help thinking, and yet…. Harry averted his thoughts and his eyes.

Harry purposely kept his eyes on Wood. "Great," he nodded forcefully, smiling weirdly.

Wood raised a brow and looked to Pickleworms and back again. He grinned. Harry tried very hard not to notice Ron's snickering or Pickleworms' eyes, which were staring at him. "See you at my house then, Potter," Wood snickered.

Harry nodded stiffly and turned around, just restraining himself from running. "Harry Potter," both he and Ron heard Wood say. "I think he's always been like that, a blushing little schoolboy."

Pickleworms said something in a deep voice, but they had turned the corner and could not hear. Ron walked beside Harry, smiling and glancing over at his friend, but not saying a word. When they were getting near the Apparition barrier, Harry stopped, nervously running a hand through his hair.

"I don't think I should go, Ron. You go on. I'll catch up Hermione and Ayida."

"What?" Ron was aghast. "You can't bail on me, Harry. It was you he was inviting, not me."

"That's not true! He would have invited you if I hadn't been there."

Ron studied him for a moment. "You just don't want to go because you're attracted to Pickleworms. I know he's your favourite player, and who knew he was so damn attractive up close, right?"

Harry furiously fought down a blush, but to no avail. "That's not true," he muttered. "I just don't think I should go. I don't like spending so much time away from Ayida."

It was true, Harry thought miserably. He had always thought that Pickleworms was attractive, but never had focused on that. Pickleworms was a serious Quidditch player and was to be taken seriously. Harry hated it when girls ran after famous men just because they were good to look at. The thought had never really crossed his mind… until now. He did not want this. It was too soon.

"Besides, what's the harm in looking anyway, Harry? You're single now, much as I hate to say it. Draco would have wanted you to move on and be happy, wouldn't he?"

"It's only been fourteen months," Harry whispered.

"Yeah? Well, I have a good feeling that when it's been five, or ten, or even twenty years, you'll have the same excuse. This is the first time you've said it, and it's already old."

"Ron, I'm not even used to living without Draco yet. I still expect to see him come out of the shower every morning I wake up and he's not in bed. I still want him to be there."

"And you always will, I expect."

At Harry's stubborn silence, Ron sighed, shifting his weight. "Look, Harry, I'm not telling you to pull the whole 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am'… or sir, in your case…" He shook his head. "I'm telling you that fourteen months is a long time, and it's about time you get out there. You might find that he's a complete wanker. Or you might find that he has looks and class just like yours truly."

Harry laughed and Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Seriously, mate, it's not a date. He might think you're an ugly sod for all we know. He might not even be interested in the male species."

"Ron, I don't know…. This seems a little silly."

"We're going to an after-party, Harry. There's nothing silly about it. If you don't want to think about other men yet, just go there for the alcohol."

Ron began bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Harry could sense a whine coming. "Fine," he relented. "But I'm not speaking to Matthew Pickleworms."

"Suit yourself," Ron shrugged. "Maybe I'll take my chances with him."

"Ron, you have a wife."

"And she doesn't need to know." Ron winked, turned around and began walking to the barrier, his shoulders shaking in laughter.

"You're a sick man," Harry muttered, following in his friend's footsteps.

There were few people at Wood's large house when they entered but it had been well prepared for a party, as if they had been expecting the win. They followed a long hall to where the music originated. It was the living room, the couches were pushed aside and a bar sat at the end of the long room, a bartender standing behind it. "Wow, they pull out all the stops here," Ron grinned. "What do you want to drink?" he asked Harry.

"Mead is fine."

"Two mead!" he called over the loud music.

The bartender produced them in a flourish. Ron gulped down half of his before the glass even touched his mouth, while Harry sipped at his. He almost admired Ron's ability to down alcohol, and wished he could drink more. His nerves were getting the best of him and needed something to do. He was afraid he was going to turn to drinking the whole night. "Ron," he nudged the redhead, "make sure I don't do anything too stupid if I get really drunk, all right?"

"Sure, thing," Ron winked. It was the kind of look Harry did not trust from his friend. He wondered what sort of things he was going to be allowed to do under Ron's watch.

Within minutes, the team began showing up along with a crowd of people. Harry nervously stood by the bar, hoping Ron would not leave him, but soon enough, somebody Ron knew from the Ministry waved at him and he disappeared into the crowd. Within moments, anxiety was overtaking Harry. He had not been in a large crowd like this since he had been with Draco. They had gone clubbing together occasionally. It was where Draco taught Harry how to dance better. At times, they would get weird looks from people as Draco ballroom danced with his husband, but they would always be oblivious. Harry remembered those times with a small smile, wishing desperately for his husband to be there to relieve the anxiety he felt. Being in a crowd of people who knew who he was, was even more stressful than any Muggle crowd he could possibly be in.

"Oi, you're Harry Potter!" a man younger than Harry yelled out. A few people around them looked around at him interested.

"Er – yes, I am." Harry slowly began to edge away, but the other man moved forward too quickly and leaned on his shoulder.

"My name is Jonas. My mum is right obsessed with you. She thinks you're one of the most gorgeous men in the Wizarding world. She'll have a heart attack, me thinks when I tell her I met you."

"Oh… well, tell her I say hello and that um… I'm really quite ugly in person."

Jonas laughed, leaning his body forward. Some of his drink dumped from his glass. Harry wondered when he had started drinking that day. Suddenly, he became quite serious and raised his glass in front of Harry's face as if he were toasting somebody. "She also says it's a shame that you're a shit packer."

"Ex… excuse me?" Harry stuttered.

"Yep. She says it's disgusting. I don't think it's so bad, meself, but that's me mum for you. I remember when everybody thought you had died, and then you were suddenly back from the dead. Oh, she was unbearable for that month. But when you came back and then your husband was dead. Oh, how she laughed. Irony, she called it… don't know if it was really, because I don't know what it means. I don't think she does either. She's not very smart. Still, you're probably better off without that Malfoy bloke anyhow. Can't imagine he was much good."

Harry felt his eye twitch as he felt the rage inside of him boil. The people around them were watching him with large eyes, waiting for him to say something. However, he was spared from saying anything. Somebody took hold of Harry's arm and pulled him from Jonas' grasp.

"Somebody get the sod out of here," the person growled in a low voice.

Harry finally blinked himself back into reality and looked up. "Oh, God," he muttered, and looked away blushing. It was Pickleworms. Harry had not realised how tall he was until now. He was over six feet tall, at least four inches taller than Harry. Once Pickleworms had manoeuvred them far enough away from Jonas and his onlookers, they stopped.

"All right there, Potter?"

"Fine," he muttered looking anywhere but at his face.

Pickleworms moved his face around until he could see Harry's eyes. "Scared to look at me?"

Harry laughed nervously. "No." Taking a deep breath, Harry looked up and smiled. He tried not to like what he saw, but it was difficult. He had creamy brown almond shaped eyes, short and spiked, brown hair, and a strong build. Harry expelled his breath, losing his internal fight. Harry liked what he saw, and he did not like that he liked it.

"That's better. Now I can introduce myself properly." He held out a large, brown hand. "Matthew Pickleworms, and you can call me Matthew, Matt, whatever you like. Just don't call me Pickleworms. I hate that."

Harry slowly took his hand and shook it. "Harry Potter…. Potter-Malfoy, actually. You can call me Harry though."

"Good because Potter-Malfoy is a mouthful," he teased. He bit his lip then and looked around. "Look, do you want to get out of this room? I noticed before that you look kind of nervous in this big crowd."

"Comes with the territory of being Harry Potter, I suppose."

"So… do you want to?"

Harry looked over and caught Ron's eye from across the room, who was nodding and winking. Holding a sigh in, he nodded. "Just lead the way, Matthew."

They went into a study down the hall, where Matthew poured them each a glass of scotch. Somewhere along the line, Harry had put down his mead, but didn't remember doing so.

"I'll be honest from the get-go," Matthew began, sitting beside Harry on a leather couch. "I was put up to talking to you by Wood and your friend. I didn't think you would want me to though, but… you looked out of your mind with rage back there…."

"Yeah, um… thank you for that. I didn't know people thought like that."

"He's drunk. I'm sure most people didn't laugh when they saw your story unfolding."

Harry shrugged. "Let them laugh if they want to. But I know they wouldn't like it if the same thing happened to them."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Harry shifted uneasily, taking long drinks from the scotch. They kept looking up at each other and glancing quickly down. Harry wanted to flee. He did not know what Matthew expected, but he hoped he did not want more than simple conversation… if there was any conversation to be had. They were both rather silent, he agonised. It was so awkward.

"Awkward, right?" Matthew read his thoughts. Harry laughed nervously into his glass, drinking more. "I know what you're probably thinking right now, Harry. You think I brought you in here to snog you or… or take advantage of you in some way." He gave a short laugh. "Sounds cheesy, but… well, that's not why I asked you to come in here. I thought it would help to be out of the crowd. Truth be told, I'm not in the mood to be in there right now."

"Me neither."

"So am I doing you a service?"

They stared at each other, and Matthew looked hopeful that he had done something right, so Harry nodded. "Yeah, I appreciate this. I didn't really want to come, but Ron talked me into it." He purposefully left out the fact that Matthew was the reason he did not want to come. Harry bit his lip. "This is kind of a relief. And since you're being honest with me, I'll have to tell you something." He gestured with his glass. "I'm a lightweight, and if I keep drinking like this, I'll be drunk in two minutes."

"You're already slurring your words, so maybe you should quit while you're ahead?"

Harry nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

"Water?"

"You don't have to get up for it."

Matthew snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. He ordered water and they each had a glass within minutes. "I sometimes forget about house elves," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I don't have one and neither does anybody I'm usually with. My friend Hermione, Ron's wife, started an organisation for the better treatment of them. She'd murder me if I got one."

"She sounds… interesting."

Harry nodded, sipping his water.

Ron came into the room then, a note in his hand. "Harry, Hermione and Mum sent a note."

Harry was up from his seat in a flash. "What's happened?" he demanded.

"Your knickers aren't on fire, are they?"

"No."

"Then calm down. Ayida is screaming, and she won't calm down. They think she just wants her dad."

"I'll go then. Are you coming or staying?"

"I'll stay a little longer. Tell Hermione I won't be late." He waved and disappeared.

"Your daughter?" Matthew asked, standing up.

"Yeah," Harry said distractedly, setting his glass of water down.

"I'll walk you to the door."

"Oh, you don't need –"

"But I want to."

Matthew took Harry's forearm and gently led him out of the room. When they got outside, Matthew turned Harry towards him. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Instead, he closed his mouth. Harry stared interested at him. Instead, Matthew placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and gently squeezed. "It was good to meet you, Harry. Maybe I'll see you at another game sometime?"

Harry hesitated again, wondering if this was a hopeful opening to see each other again. He wouldn't know, as he had never really dated before. Throwing caution to the wind, he nodded and smiled up at him. "If you go to the Quidditch Cup, I'll be there."

"I'll send you the tickets personally."

Smiling, Harry began to turn away. "Have fun tonight." With that, he Disapparated.

By the time he took a screaming Ayida into his arms, he wondered what had just happened, and how he could stop anything from happening before it developed. He cuddled his head against his baby girl and rocked her. She quieted quickly. Could he take the chance by letting Matthew get close? Would he ever be ready to let somebody else in? Surely Ayida would be enough.

Then he wondered if the love of a little girl would be able to sustain his loneliness for the rest of his life. And he wasn't so sure.

* * *

**Post chapter notes:** Some of you are planning a mutiny, I'm sure of it as I have had rather distraught readers imply... more like threaten to stop reading if I had Harry be with somebody else. I'm sorry that you feel that way, however, I intend to keep the stories as real as possible. Somebody who is as lonely and heartbroken as Harry might be driven to somebody else if given the chance. Harry, you understand from this chapter, will be given that chance. This is all I will say about it. I'm sorry if that bothers any of you. Please keep in mind who the true pairing of this fic -more importantly, the trilogy -is.

On that note, please review! I'm not averse to getting a one word exclamation (although I also welcome longer lengths ), so please review! I would like to know if you are still enjoying this! Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author notes:** I don't know if I have mentioned it before, but Ayida's name is pronounced eye-duh.Also, sorry for the prolonged wait. Schnoogle has been a right pain in the you know what and I always wait for the chapter to be uploaded there before I upload it here. I will be submitting chapter four, I hope, before Christmas.

Thanks to my wonderful beta, PadfootsBitch and to everybody who has continually read and reviewed! I really appreciate it.

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Three_

_I can't take this feeling anymore  
Drain the pressure from the swelling,  
The sensations overwhelming,  
Give me a long kiss goodnight  
and everything will be all right  
Tell me that I won't feel a thing  
So give me Novocain_

Harry spent the next month anxiously watching the Appleby Arrows' progress during the season. They suffered only one loss, winning their other three games played. The Arrows were favoured to win the Cup, and this made Harry uneasy. Ron watched him amusedly, unable to discern what had happened between Harry and Matthew, but all the while, knowing that something _had_ happened. Hermione was informed that Harry fancied a Quidditch player and had a difficult time keeping quiet on the issue. Just like everybody else who was close to Harry, she wanted him to be happy, and if it meant with another man, then so be it.

Eventually, the day of the deciding match arrived, and Harry sat at the edge of his seat with mixed emotions as he listened to it over the Wizarding Wireless. As a dedicated fan, he certainly wanted the Arrows to win, but a part of him wanted them to lose so that he would not have to attend the Cup. Harry, as well as Ron, Hermione, Ayida, and the twins were visiting the Weasleys' home. It was a beautiful, sunny day outside so they had brought the radio into the garden to listen. Ayida was chasing gnomes as they teased her from their holes. The Weasley twins were playing catch the quaffle on their brooms, though they flew close to the ground as to hear the game. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were inside preparing something to eat, while Mr. Weasley sat listening intently to the game.

"So what's this I hear about Matthew Pickleworms?" Mr. Weasley asked as Matthew scored for the third time.

"It's nothing," Harry answered quickly, fighting off a blush.

"Harry fancies him. We met him that day we went to the game," Ron said proudly. "And I think Pickleworms fancies Harry too."

"He does not," Harry said vehemently, leaning back to see where Ayida had gone. When he saw that she was toddling unsteadily towards them, he relaxed. "And he hates it when people call him by his surname."

Ron grinned at him.

"Shut up, Ron."

The redhead held his hands up. "I didn't say anything."

"Harry, we talked to Oliver the other day," Fred called from above their heads, "and he said that Pickleworms is going to get you tickets to the Quidditch Cup. I'd say that's interest!"

"He said only if the team makes it."

And in that, Harry took comfort. However, he thought dismally, they were up by 50 points, and it was not often that their Seeker lost.

Soon after, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley began bringing out the food and they all dined as the game continued in the background. The twins and Ron would grin at him every time the Arrows scored, but he tried to ignore him. Harry was almost done eating when it was announced that both Seekers had caught sight of the Snitch. Harry held his breath, as it sounded like it was going to be a close catch. They were chasing after it neck and neck. They were diving… and a bludger was sent towards the Arrows Seeker and its aim was true. The Seeker was hit hard in the side, sending him toppling the rest of the way to the ground. The Snitch was caught, but not by the Arrows. Inside, Harry rejoiced for his good luck.

"Ah, rotten luck, Harry," George said sadly. "Maybe he'll owl you anyway."

"I'm not particularly interested in him sending an owl," Harry replied, getting up to bring his plate to the kitchen sink. With that said, the subject was successfully dropped… at least for the next few hours. By the time the owl arrived, Fred and George had already left and Harry was readying himself and Ayida to go home.

"Harry!" Ron called from the kitchen. His voice sounded a bit like he was laughing. Harry looked up in trepidation when Ron came into the room. "Letter for you." He bit his lip, obviously holding back a grin.

"From who?" Harry asked, though he thought he knew already.

"Just open it," Ron urged his eyes wide on the letter as he handed it over.

The writing was unfamiliar and the crest on the back had a simple 'P'. Harry's hand shook as he straightened out the letter.

_Harry, _

_I know we said we would see each other at the Quidditch Cup if the Arrows won. As you probably know, that is not happening this time around. I can't help but feel a little disappointed (for more than one reason) as I was looking forward to seeing you again. I hope you do not find me presumptuous if I ask you to write me a response if you're interested. Perhaps we could set up a date to get to know each other a little better. _

_Until then, I look forward to a reply. _

_Yours,  
Matthew Pickleworms _

Harry read the letter through three times before he calmly folded the paper, inserted it back in the envelope, folded it over once and handed it back to Ron. "Could you toss that for me please?"

Ron blinked. "Toss it? But isn't it from Pickleworms?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then why do you want to throw it away?"

"Because I don't need it. I read it already, didn't I?"

"He asked you out, didn't he? I'm right! He asked you out!"

"Fine! _I'll_ throw it away!" Harry stormed into the kitchen and threw the letter into the rubbish bin with unnecessary force. As his hand came down, it hit the edge of the bin and sent it toppling to the side. He whirled around. "I just asked a favour. I need to pack up Ayida's bag so that we can leave." He pushed past Ron who had followed him, but Ron caught his arm.

"Why are you so upset, Harry? I don't understand. Go out with him one time. It isn't marriage he's proposing."

"I can't," Harry said, his voice having lowered considerably.

"Is it because of Draco? You have to move on sometime. Draco is _dead_, Harry."

"Not to me," Harry whispered fiercely, turning to glare into Ron's eyes. "He's not dead when I wake up in the morning and reach out to touch him. He's not dead when I still expect him to walk in the door after training, exhausted and hungry, and not caring about either of those things because he just wants to _hug_ me. He's _not_ dead, so I can't be with anybody else."

"But you're lonely, Harry," Ron insisted.

"I have Ayida."

"She's not all that you need."

"I'll survive."

"But, Harry –"

"_Drop it_, Ron."

The redhead physically backed away, his face showing just how concerned he was. "I'm only trying to see you happy again. Everybody wants you to be happy again."

"Another man isn't going to do it, so unless I speak of being with somebody, don't bring it up again. I'll survive."

Ron nodded his acquiescence and the topic was not broached again.

A couple months had passed; Ayida had had her first birthday party and the twins had made Harry their manager at the Diagon Alley store so that they could have more time with their other stores and inventing products. It worked out well for Harry as the twins allowed him to bring Ayida. The twins had purposefully made a child-safe area for her so that Harry would not need to worry that she was getting into something dangerous. They had also taught him a spell in which he would be alerted if Ayida was agitated in some way, or needed to be changed. Lazy parenting, Harry thought, but he liked being busy outside the home the four days a week he worked there, so it was worth it.

In his rare alone time (when Ayida was sleeping), Harry often thought of the chance he had been given with somebody else. At times, he felt as though he almost regretted not taking the chance. Often, he would wake in the night from a nightmare and search the bed for a warm body. There were days when the thought crossed his mind that if he had somebody else, he could reach out, close his eyes and pretend that the person was Draco. Then perhaps he could fall asleep after the nightmares. Perhaps he could begin to move on. If he were honest with himself, he did not want to move on. Something inside told him to wait it out. Draco was alive. However, Harry thought that if Draco were still alive, he would have come home already. Harry's survival had been in the papers for months afterwards. Nothing had been a bigger story to cover.

Harry was beginning to think that Ron was right. Maybe he did need somebody else to keep him happy. Sometimes the bouts of loneliness for Draco were too much. They were more than Ayida could cure, that was for certain.

It was not right. Nothing that Harry could tell himself would make him write to Matthew. They did not know each other very well, but Harry was sure that Matthew deserved a better relationship than that. He did not deserve to be treated, as Harry wanted to treat him, just as a warm body.

However, in these months, Harry felt himself become lonelier than he had ever been. The prospect of another person had been a tease, and there were nights when he would sit alone on his couch, staring out the window into the spacious backyard, his thoughts turning back to the moment he found out that Draco had died, as if his brain loved the torture. He let himself feel his heart break in half again, let himself feel the desperation, let himself remember all the reasons why it could not be true and all the reasons why it was. He would hug his knees to his chest, tears flowing, sometimes silently, sometimes in wracking sobs. All he needed on these nights, he thought, was somebody to hold him. But he was alone, and he was painfully aware of it.

It was about halfway into November one Thursday afternoon and Harry had just left work. He had decided to shop for more clothes for Ayida as she was outgrowing hers at a rapid rate. She was expanding outwards as well as up, and Harry could never get enough of blowing on her rather sizeable belly and kissing her chubby cheeks.

The two were walking down Diagon Alley; rather Harry was doing the walking. Harry was attempting to kiss her cheeks, but she was holding her hands against his mouth and giggling wildly. Bags were swinging from Harry's elbows, full of clothes he had just bought from the children's store, Magical Sproglets. He blew a raspberry against her hand and she drew away squealing in giddy delight at being so fooled.

Harry freed a hand and attempted to smooth down her windblown locks. He despaired that she had inherited his many cowlicks as her hair tended to stick in every direction when it was not styled in a ponytail. "Where should we go next?" he asked, stopping next to Flourish and Blotts. "Should we go home to eat?"

Ayida's eyes went wide and she shook her head vigorously. "Okay," Harry nodded. "I don't particularly feel like it either. I wish you could give me more than a yes or no."

"Harry?" somebody questioned from behind. Harry turned and froze. "It is you," Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "I thought I may have heard your voice out here." Harry merely stared at him, unable to form any words. He had never even considered that he would run into Matthew somewhere. It was awkward silence for a few moments and Matthew looked very much as though he wished he had never said anything. "I was in there," he shrugged finally, his head jerking to Flourish and Blotts.

"You know the sound of my voice that well?" Harry asked, and sighed inwardly that that was the first thing he could think to say.

Matthew's cheeks tinted. "You sounded familiar and it took me a moment to place it. So… I thought I would come out here to see if I was right."

"Well… you were," Harry nodded slightly.

Matthew mimicked his movement, their heads bobbed in time. They stared at each other for a few moments, and only when Harry was ready to make his excuses did Matthew say something. "You didn't write back."

Harry licked his lips. "I know." After a few moments of yet more silence, Harry realised that Matthew must be waiting for an explanation. He opened his mouth.

"I don't need excuses, Harry," Matthew said before he could utter a word. "I understand. I just want to tell you that you don't have to worry about it. I don't really know what I was thinking…." He trailed off and his eyes fell on Ayida for a few moments. "See you around, Harry."

Harry watched as Matthew turned and walked away. Emotions were fighting within him trying to get the upper hand. He wanted to stop the other man, explain why; he also wanted to turn and run in the other direction and never look back. But Harry knew that he would look back, and he would likely regret not calling for him.

"Matthew!" he cried, starting for him. Matthew turned, his face edged with confusion. "Wait, Matthew. It's not what you think – why I didn't write back, I mean. I didn't write back because I _wasn't_ interested. I just… I suppose I was a little scared. I haven't been with anybody since…."

Matthew blinked. "Oh… well, Harry I didn't necessarily mean that we would jump into a relationship. I said that I wanted to get to know you. It wouldn't have been anything, honestly – just conversation."

"You just… just wanted to get to know me?" Harry cocked his head to the side. "I thought that –"

"That I like you?"

"Well… yeah," Harry blew out a breath and looked away in embarrassment.

"I do."

He looked back up in surprise. "Oh."

Matthew smiled. "I never necessarily wanted a commitment from you, Harry. I think friendship sounds fine."

A friend who is attracted to…. Harry blinked up at him. "Do you want to go eat? Ayida and I are starving."

Matthew's smile was brilliant. "Where do you want to go?"

"Do you like Chinese? I know a good place near Diagon Alley."

"I love Chinese."

"Great! Let's walk."

All Harry could think was that he finally could spend the evening with another man, and not be alone.

They did not talk much on the way, but they both kept sneaking glances at each other then quickly looking away. Harry felt a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach each time he caught Matthew looking. He had forgotten how it felt to know that somebody was interested, and he thought it a rather addictive feeling. He rather wished Matthew would say something, as silly as it was, about how much he liked Harry. He felt foolish for even thinking it.

Conversation did not really start between them until they had been given their food. It was not as uncomfortable as it had been at Wood's party or even as it had been in the alley minutes ago, but still Harry felt how nervous both of them really were. "Did you listen to that last game?" Matthew asked once he had polished off his first two egg rolls.

"Yeah," Harry set a sipper cup in front of Ayida full of milk. "It was a great game until the Seeker was hit with that bludger. It's too bad really. I was hoping you'd win."

"We were all a little disappointed," Matthew nodded, "as everybody was saying this was our year. I wanted to win the Cup at least once before I retire from the game."

Harry looked up surprised. "Are you retiring soon?"

"This year will be my last year in university, so I'm planning next year to be my last season. It'll be a little bit of a relief, really. I like travelling and the games, but I'm almost twenty-six years old. I feel ancient when all those young people start coming in out of school."

"But you're at the height of your game!"

"This is why I should quit while I'm ahead. Besides, I always thought of Quidditch as my hobby, not my career. I only came into it professionally to pay the bills while I've been at university. Besides," he shrugged, "I haven't committed to a decision quite yet. I might end up staying if the team gives me enough incentive."

"What do you study?"

"Criminal psychology, but I've done a little work in forensics."

"Oh, what are you going to do when you're done with Quidditch and school?"

"Ideally… I want to get a job in the Ministry. They don't necessarily require a Muggle education for that sort of thing, but I've studied with a witch for spells and techniques. She gives out degrees and I'll be done with her in about two months. I did the Muggle education purely for my own benefit. Besides, I think that in the long run, it'll help. Magic isn't the answer for everything, in my opinion."

"I think you're right," Harry nodded approvingly, smiling across the table at him.

Matthew fiddled with his chopsticks as he studied Harry. "You know, this is kind of weird for me."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that I remember you when you first came to Hogwarts in your first year. I remember thinking on how tiny you were. In my head, I always imagined you to be huge."

"Well," Harry looked down, "I still might not be huge, but I've at least grown since I was eleven."

"Yes, you most certainly have," Matthew smirked. Harry blushed.

"What year were you in when I came?"

"Sixth year, and I was in Ravenclaw. I doubt you noticed me back then."

"No, I just kept my head down for the most part, and tried to ignore people talking about me when I was right there."

Matthew shook his head and leaned back in his seat. "I was amazed when you were put on the Gryffindor Quidditch team that year. I thought for sure you would play professionally, and I waited when I knew you were done at Hogwarts, but you never did."

"I wanted to be an Auror, actually. Draco always tried talking me into being a professional Quidditch player because he didn't want me to put myself in danger anymore. But I didn't really want it. I knew that he and I were going to be married right after Hogwarts, so… I didn't want to be away from him a lot. I knew that playing would mean that. So…" he trailed off, embarrassed that he had begun talking about Draco. He looked to Ayida.

"It hasn't been that long since he died, has it?" Matthew asked quietly.

"A year and four months."

"This is kind of soon for you then, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Being here with me."

"To be truthful, I don't know how I feel about it. I know that I'm attracted to you." He looked up with a rueful smile. "Besides, we don't really need to worry about that since we're only here as friends, do we?" Matthew paused and then shrugged. Harry sighed. "Truthfully, I know that I miss Draco all the time. But that's all I know. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing by being here. I don't know if Ayida will resent me when she's older for seeing other men so soon after Draco died, that's to say if I do… I don't know anything. I just know that I'm interested enough in having friendship… something with you that I'm here."

"Then maybe… maybe it is better if you start this off by telling me not to expect anything from you, that you still love Draco and always will, and that you'll probably compare me to him all the time… if this goes anywhere that is."

"And that I've always believed that there is something wrong with his supposed suicide, and I believe that there is always a chance that he's still alive somewhere. If that ever turned out to be true, I wouldn't stay with you, even if Draco didn't want me."

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Did you ever research it? His death I mean? If you believe he's alive, then surely you have some sort of reason for believing he's still here somewhere."

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted in an attempted smile. They fell immediately. "I went to look at his body the day after I found out. There's no question that it was him," he said, his voice hushed. Matthew had to lean forward to hear him. "He was dead. I tried waking him, because I just…. Sirius, Remus and I tried everything, but…. There was nothing. We're sure it was him. Snape is sure it was him, and he and I are the ones who knew him best. After the funeral, I tried looking for him, but even with Sirius's help, nothing turned up." Harry turned his eyes up when Ayida giggled at a man who was sitting at the table next to them, making faces at her. Harry smiled faintly at his daughter. "It doesn't mean that I have changed my mind that I think there's a chance he's still out there somewhere. If he is, it's only a matter of time before he comes back to either take me back or to end it altogether."

Matthew leaned back in his seat, seemingly contemplating everything Harry had just said. "Well," he finally sighed, "then I'll tell you that I've already thought about all of this and accept it. If only you'll give this," he gestured between them, "a good try."

Harry drew in a deep breath, pushing all these recurring thoughts aside. "I'm already giving a friendly dinner a try. Let's not push it," he joked.

Matthew chuckled. "I am rather hard to get along with, so I'd conclude that we have a fairly good start."

The two men laughed, and Harry was wholly thankful that the mood had lightened again. When they bid their goodbyes, Matthew bade farewell to Ayida by gently tapping her under the chin, to which she giggled. Then he gave Harry a tight hug, one that left him feeling warm and content, and just a little bit better about the whole situation.

After his chance meeting with Matthew in Diagon Alley, Harry became almost excited for the next time he saw Matthew. The feelings he felt about seeing other men so soon were still mixed, but Matthew was rare, he knew. And any time Harry thought of him, he grew warm inside, just like he remembered had happened when he first started to like Draco.

They had made no definite plans together, but Matthew had said that he would be in touch soon. It was not until a week later that Harry heard from the other man again. Harry was busy cleaning the house as Ayida napped. He had finished the kitchen and dining room earlier that morning after breakfast, and now was in the living room sending Ayida's toys down the hall and into her play room. He would have to clean that later.

"Hey, Harry," a voice came from the fire. Harry jumped and turned to the sound, pleasantly surprised to see Matthew's face hovering in his fire. A stuffed frog dropped to the ground, but he paid it no mind. Matthew had a small smile on his face, and Harry suddenly forgot what he was supposed to do.

"Hi, Matthew," he kneeled on the floor.

"I was just wondering if you'd seen the article in Witch Weekly."

"No. I don't tend to read magazines for women. Besides, my picture for Most Attractive Bachelor has been in there too many times in the past year for my liking…. Or so I hear."

Matthew grinned. "I don't know if I believe you." Suddenly, his face turned ugly with barely suppressed anger. "Somebody rat us out. I think one of us was being followed."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Matt."

"Last week when we went to dinner together… one of us was being followed and there are pictures of us together at the restaurant. They got us hugging and well, neither of us looks terribly upset with the situation if you get me."

"Oh," Harry looked down. "Yeah, I get it." Thinking back to the hug after their dinner, Harry was certain he had blushed quite spectacularly and he was even more certain that he had had a grin plastered to his face. "I'm sorry, Matt. This sort of thing always seems to happen whenever I'm involved."

"Actually, I believe I was the one being followed. I think it was one of my team mates. I don't know if you heard, but Johnston was kicked off the team after we lost."

Johnston, if Harry recalled correctly, was another Chaser for the Arrows and rather good. He, of course, had nothing on Matthew's skill. Matthew was one of the best players in the league. "Why was he kicked off?"

"Obscene behaviour or something of the sort. I believe he got drunk that night we lost and nearly raped a poor Muggle girl, but somebody stopped him. The Ministry put a memory charm on her because he used magic."

"Was he arrested?"

"Of course. He only did two months in Azkaban though. I've only just been tipped off that he's been following me for a story. Apparently he's blown through his money earned from Quidditch and needs to earn a few extra galleons. He took our pictures together and sold them to _Witch Weekly_."

"So… what did the article make us look like?"

"The truth?"

"Don't sugar-coat it, please," Harry smiled wanly.

"Okay," Matthew nodded. "It said that we had met months ago at a party at Wood's house, which of course is true. However, it also says that we've been having a highly sexual affair and have been keeping it top secret. It also raises the question of how much you ever…."

"Matthew," Harry prodded when he stopped for a long moment.

Matthew sighed, and closing his eyes continued. "It questioned how much you ever really loved Draco if you were so willing to jump into another relationship hardly a year after he died."

Harry looked away for a few moments, before turning back to Matthew. "I don't care what anybody thinks. Nobody can really know how I feel about Draco. Besides, who's to place a time limit to getting back on your feet anyway?"

"It's not true anyway."

"Who cares then?" Harry pounded his fist into his hand. "We haven't had sex. We've hardly spoken since the first time we met. So Johnston made a few galleons off us. Let witches think what they want to think. I could care less what people think of me."

"Good," Matthew nodded, his smile coming back into play. "I was hoping you would take that sort of view on it. Because before this I had been rather hoping that you would come out with me.

"Oh. As in a… a date?" Harry asked in trepidation.

"Not necessarily a date, no. I just have something in mind that you might enjoy doing, and I can't imagine you get out often what with raising a child by yourself."

"No, not really."

"Would you like to accompany me then? I promise it will be fun." Matthew grinned.

Harry felt his stomach flutter. "I'll look around for a sitter."

"Great! Saturday at eleven then. Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron and we'll go from there."

Saturday was clear and sunny after a bout of rain. Yet, everything smelled dead with December quickly approaching and the air was crisp. Harry could feel the crunch of dried grass beneath his feet. Matthew had insisted upon a blindfold before they had Apparated, and now Matthew was leading him across a field… possibly. Harry had no idea where they were.

"Can't you tell me where we're going?"

"Not yet, but if you keep that look on your face, I might just break down and tell you before we get there."

"What look?" Harry smiled.

"That one. You look… content. Maybe a little happy?"

"I feel good today," Harry kept smiling. "I had a good morning with Ayida."

Ayida had woken up this morning, not in the mood to run everywhere, but wanting to snuggle with her father. She did everything happily and without complaint. Even when Harry had left her with Sirius and Remus, she had smiled at him showing him her tiny teeth, and had not complained.

"I'm glad," Matthew said as he let them come to a stop. "All right, Harry. Take off your blindfold."

Slowly, Harry slid off the cloth and reached for his glasses, which Matthew held in his hand. When his vision came clear, he blinked around, looking at where they were. They stood at the edge of a Quidditch pitch, completely deserted except for them. There were two brooms and a Quidditch case lying next to them.

"This is where the Arrows practice. It's nothing special, I know, but I thought you might like to see it. Plus, we can play a little."

"I'm not going to be able to do much," Harry lifted his left arm perpendicular with his body, showing that it was the furthest he could lift it.

"I remembered. It'll be nothing strenuous. How long has it been since you've flown?"

"Much too long," Harry whispered, an eager feeling beginning to flutter in his chest. "I'm probably terribly out of shape, especially compared to you." He blushed.

"I don't mind," Matthew grinned. "I'll whip you into shape if I have to."

The other man grabbed the broomsticks and handed one to Harry. Without delay, the two took off into the air, the exhilarating feeling flowing through Harry as the wind whipped his hair. He felt magnificent, and a blissful laugh escaped him as he zoomed down the field. The broom was the same edition of the Firebolt Harry had, stored away in the back of his closet. Firebolt had released a newer version just a few months ago, which had become the official broom for the Quidditch league. But on this older broom, Harry felt completely at home, as he was used to the way this model manoeuvred. He took three laps before he came to a stop in front of Matthew, who had watched him.

"You're incredible," Matthew grinned at him. "I had forgotten what a natural you are at flying."

Harry, whose hair was windblown, his cheeks flushed, and had a wide grin spreading his face, just shrugged. "It's the only thing I think I'm really good at," he confessed.

"You're good with your daughter."

"You can't say that," Harry smiled. "You've only seen me once with her."

"Even so. I'm always nervous around kids, so I admire people who have no problem."

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Acting is my second profession," Matthew brought his hand dramatically to his forehead. He laughed as he brought his hand down. Harry felt sudden warmth spread through his body, looking at Matthew as he laughed. Matthew had dimples, he noticed, and his eyes sparkled all the time, it seemed.

"You're staring at me funny," Matthew's smile began to fade, but he still held humour in his eyes.

"I just noticed you have dimples."

The Quidditch player brought up his hand and felt them, though they were not showing anymore. "Oh, are they a turn-off for you?"

"No, I like them." Matthew grinned at that. Harry reached out and ran his forefinger over them, smiling. "Have you ever tried sticking something in them? They're pretty deep."

Matthew let out a deep, rumbling laugh. Harry swore he could feel it go through his finger and straight to his groin. He pulled his hand away. "No, but we could try sometime."

"Okay," Harry nodded.

"Let's fly until we're hungry, and then we'll go get something to eat," Matthew suggested, casually touching Harry's knee.

"I'll be sweaty." His heart quickened.

"They're showers here."

Harry bit his lip. "Are there partitions?"

"No, but we'll take turns if it'll make you feel better. I promise I won't peek," Matthew winked.

Harry licked his lips, trying desperately to keep his hormones under control. He was starting to hate that he was so attracted to this man, but his body was betraying him. It had been so long since he had received such positive attentions from another. His body was eating up every moment of it.

"Let's fly," he said too hoarsely, and he cursed himself as he flew away.

The two men spent the next three hours simply flying and catching the Snitch. Matthew was not good at playing Seeker (Harry caught it all four times), but Harry was not one to brag. He gave Matthew pointers before they headed to the shower, and Matthew ate up every word, showing he was a good listener by looking Harry in the eye as he spoke. Harry blushed anytime he spoke, but decided to tell himself that Matthew did not notice his red face.

Dinner was at a Muggle Italian restaurant so as not to be seen by the media. It was a quiet night, just what they had both hoped. When the day was drawing to a close, they Apparated to the edge of the Apparition barriers that surrounded Harry's house. He had bought the house two months after Draco's death, and loved everything about it. There was a garden in the back, and in the woods, there was a small lake. The previous owners, having been Muggles with small children, had erected a swing set in the front yard. Harry could not wait until Ayida was a little older to try it out. The house was two stories and modest, but it fit Harry and his needs.

As Matthew walked Harry up the front garden, he quietly slipped his hand into Harry's and squeezed gently. And at that moment, it finally hit Harry with crisp clarity that Matthew was attracted to him. Matthew wanted a relationship. He had told Harry that this was not really like a date, yet… perhaps Matthew had been extra courteous for a reason. Now it was the closest it had felt to being a date all day, and suddenly nervousness set in. Was Matthew going to kiss him? Did he want him to? Was he supposed to invite him in? He did not want to!

However, when they got to the front door, Matthew stopped and they faced each other. Harry nervously looked from his face to his chest and back again. Matthew smiled softly down at him and pulled Harry to him in a tight embrace. Harry inhaled and enjoyed the other man's scent, discreetly pressing his nose against his shoulder. Matthew moved his head and gently pressed his lips against Harry's cheek. Harry tightened his grip around Matthew's torso nervously. Their faces were close when they looked at each other again. Harry wanted to kiss Matthew, but could feel that deep down he was not ready for it.

"I'm n-"

"I know, Harry," Matthew nodded, knowing what he was going to say. "Just tell me when it's time."

"I will. I… I do like you."

Matthew nodded. "So, I'll see you again."

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

When the house was glowing with light, Harry went to the living room and took a picture from the end table. Draco was staring out of the picture, hardly moving; his face devoid of emotion, but his eyes held a sparkle to them. Harry's heart ached for him.

"What should I do, Draco?" Draco just blinked. "What I feel for Matthew is nothing compared to you," he whispered. "But you're not here… and I'm lonely. I want somebody."

The front door opened and Sirius called for him. "In here!" he yelled back.

Setting down the picture, the answer was still foggy, but he knew what he was going to do. "I'll keep seeing him, but as friends," he whispered quietly. "We'll see how that goes, Draco. We'll see."

"She's sleeping," Sirius said as he entered the room. Ayida was lying against him, sleeping soundly in her pyjamas. "Do you want to put her to bed, or should I?"

"You can if you want, but I can take her."

Sirius handed her over. "She's a handful," he smiled. "How was Matthew?"

"Good," Harry walked to the stairs. "We had a good time."

"Are you seeing him again?"

"Would it be terrible if I did?"

Sirius followed close behind all the way to Ayida's room. "No, not at all. Nobody expects you to live alone for the rest of your life. So it's a little sooner than most people expect. What are they going to do, stone you?"

"I'm not concerned about what other people think. My main concern is Ayida."

"She's a baby. She'll be fine with it. And if this turns into a serious thing, I'm sure she'll love Matthew."

Harry laid Ayida into her crib, pulled a blanket over her and then turned around to face his godfather. "Do you think Draco would hate me?"

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He wouldn't hate you, Harry. Ultimately, it's for you to decide what is best for you and your daughter. Don't put much weight into what I say, because I just want you to be happy."

Harry nodded. Then he would keep seeing Matthew just as he had told Draco's picture.

The months passed quickly and soon, Ayida was two years old. She was talking, although it was a bit unclear at the best of times, but Harry could hear certain words. Matthew still took Harry out, much to his surprise. He had made it clear on their third time out that he was not ready to be in a relationship, but that he would still like to see Matthew, as a friend, if he were interested. So, Matthew had been a good sport about it and settled into being Harry's friend. There were tense moments between them quite often when they were together. Harry's attraction to Matthew had grown exponentially, and so had Matthew's to Harry. Matthew made it known in the way he touched Harry, and much to Harry's chagrin, his body violently reacted to most of the contact.

Ayida had taken a liking to Matthew almost immediately and said, "Mmm," anytime she wanted to see him. Matthew, as far as Harry could tell, adored Ayida just as much as she did him. He made a beeline for her every time he came over and played with her for sometimes up to ten minutes before he greeted Harry.

"How are you?" Matthew asked one day in the midst of a hug, his eyes conveying his concern as they pulled away. He had been away for Quidditch games for a month, and while he had been away, Harry had had a rather nasty bout of missing Draco. Their fifth wedding anniversary, August 15th, came and went and left Harry feeling hollow. He found that each night that passed, he could not resist taking to bed a pair of trousers that had been left behind when Draco had packed. It was ridiculous, but the trousers were all that Harry had that he could hold all night. However, it did nothing to relieve the empty space within him. It only deepened it.

Harry sighed inwardly as it seemed that either Hermione or Ron had informed him of it.

"I'm fine," Harry smiled tiredly. "It wasn't so bad. I took Ayida out for a treat, and then I showed her pictures of him. I bought a soft picture book that has a special handle for her to hold. The salesperson said that kids like to play with them and since there are pictures in the book, kids learn faces." He looked away to Ayida, who was holding the small photo album as she tottered around the living room, inspecting everything. "She looks through it like a book all the time."

"They're all pictures of Draco, then?" Matthew asked his voice rigid.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I want her to know his face."

"That's a good idea. Don't you think it will confuse her that all of the pictures are of a person she's never met? Why don't you add pictures of people she knows?"

Harry and Matthew had met last July at Wood's party, and it was August now. A year and one month and Harry could sense the restlessness in Matthew every time they were together. But what was he to expect? Matthew was human, and he wanted more and was tired of waiting. Though he continued to be patient, Harry could see it in his eyes. He was tired of waiting around and soon he would leave if nothing happened. It made Harry frantic. Matthew had become a stabiliser in his life, and if he left, Harry knew he would feel the dizzying effects of loneliness set in again. It was not that Matthew sent the loneliness he felt for Draco away, but the loneliness for another person was gone, and that made things better. Of course, Harry was not stupid. He did not hold grandeur thoughts that Matthew had remained virginal since they had met. It was a widely known rumour that Matthew and the Keeper of his team, Louis Caldwell were an on again, off again fling. Matthew had once told Harry as much, though had never admitted to sleeping with Caldwell since they had met. As much as Harry was attracted to Matthew, this did not incite any sort of feelings within him. There was no jealousy, no anger, nothing. It almost bothered Harry. Almost. What _did_ bother Harry was the thought of Matthew growing restless in their friendship. Matthew _leaving_ bothered him even more.

Harry watched in confusion as Matthew paced to the window. "I… I thought of coming to see you," Harry said.

"Did you?" he asked, going to sit on the couch. He lifted Ayida into his lap. She smiled up at him and hugged him tightly.

"Mmm," she said, giggling.

"Yes, Ayida kept asking for you."

"Oh. Is that the only reason you thought of it?" He was avoiding eye contact now. Harry swallowed.

"No, of course not," he said, but was not sure if it was the truth. "I wanted to see you as well, but there was a huge shipping disaster at the joke shop."

"Yeah, I read about it in the paper. I hear they're set to make loads of money if they win the lawsuit against the delivery service."

"They plan on opening a store in France if they win the case."

"That's great."

Harry sighed; knowing that Matthew was not into the conversation. He was anxious. He knew what Matthew wanted. He wanted to call Harry his boyfriend. He wanted Harry to move Ayida and sit on his lap and kiss him. Oh and how Harry wanted to kiss him. So much. It was unbearable. But he was so scared to act on anything he might be feeling. Harry did not realise that he was staring at Matthew; he even did not notice that Ayida had crawled from his lap and went to her playroom to grab toys. Matthew stared back at him, bewilderment stitched clearly onto his face.

"Something wrong, Harry?" he asked.

"No," Harry shook his head, and suddenly his feet were carrying him forward. He pushed his knee between Matthew's legs, and put his left leg on the other side and sat on the other man's lap.

"What are you doing?" Matthew whispered as Harry brought his hands up and placed them on his cheeks, his thumbs running along his chin and lips.

"I've missed you," Harry murmured, and knew that it was true as soon as it came out.

"You've never said, 'hello' quite like this before," Matthew was breathless.

"I've never been brave enough for it. I miss you when you're gone," Harry whispered, moving ever closer as he desperately tried to forget that just last night, he had woken up screaming for Draco. "And I don't like missing people."

They both whimpered quietly as their lips met, dry as they were. Matthew pulled away, whispering Harry's name, wetting his lips. And they kissed again, harder this time, more sure of themselves. They had barely tasted each other when they heard Ayida running down the hall towards them. Harry turned gracefully and sat next to Matthew, his right leg thrown over his. Ayida came in with two books in her hand. She held up her tiny finger for them to wait and then ran back to her room.

Harry pulled Matthew's face to his again and kissed him softly. "Stay for dinner?" he whispered.

"Yes."

They kissed again. "Stay the night?"

Matthew whimpered louder this time when Harry sucked in his bottom lip. "God. Yes. I thought you'd never ask."

Ayida came back with three more books and then sat on Matthew's lap, waiting for one of them to start. Matthew looked to Harry with a smile meant for just the two of them and gladly read to the little girl. Harry curled up to his side, placing his arm on Matthew's shoulder and leaning his chin on his arm, while his other hand was idly playing with Ayida's hair. He felt safe now, because whatever cloud had been over Matthew had cleared, and they were safe from a fight. And Harry did not have to endure being alone. Softly, Harry reached down and kissed Matthew's neck. The other man's voice cracked and stopped for a moment before continuing to read.

"I'll go start dinner," Harry offered and stood.

In the kitchen, Harry leaned against the counter attempting to pull himself back together. He was not sure what had come over him, and at the moment he was not inclined to care. They had feelings for each other, that much was certain. The rest would come later, after Ayida was put to bed, to be more exact. He felt something burn in the pit of his stomach and tried willing it away. But thoughts of what they would do later that night would not leave him to any peace of mind. It had been so long since he had had somebody in his bed, and though his body was welcoming the idea, he was nervous.

Taking a deep breath, he withdrew his wand and began summoning things from the cupboards. He decided on shepherd's pie, and with the help of magic, dinner was done in a half-hour. Matthew stayed with Ayida the entire time, not because he needed to, but Harry thought it was for the same reason he needed to get away. Matthew was nervous.

"Dinner is ready," he announced after he had set the table. Matthew cheered for Ayida's benefit, who went along with him and yelled.

"It smells delicious," Matthew sniffed as he entered the dining room. He put Ayida into her chair before sitting down, and Harry set her a plate of food. Taking Harry by surprise, Matthew grabbed him around the waist and kissed him just below the ear, lingering there for a few moments before taking his seat. Licking his lips, Harry sat down beside him. In unison, they moved their legs so that they would touch while they ate. Harry smiled, blushing.

The night passed slowly as both men watched the clock. Matthew touched Harry any way he possibly could manage, and that was appropriate, every time they were near and Harry thought he would go mad with want. Ayida scribbled in a book, played with small figurines that moved, made Harry tickle her, and had Matthew throw her in the air repeatedly. It was a typical night at home, but Harry thought it was possibly the longest he had ever experienced.

As soon as Ayida began rubbing her eyes and yawning, Harry sat straight and waited impatiently as she slowed down in her playing. When Draco's grandfather clock struck half nine, he moved quickly to pick her up and hurry upstairs. "Time for nigh-nigh?" he asked as she snuggled up to him. She nodded soberly against his shoulder. Matthew was following far behind, looking unsure of himself. Harry turned his head and motioned for him to follow. Harry made sure to not hurry himself as he readied his daughter for bed, but Matthew was waiting in the doorframe, leaning his shoulder against it, and looking for all the world that he had not one bit of nervousness for what was about to happen. Ayida reached up for a hug when she was in her pyjamas and clung around his neck. He kissed her and held her tight, truly enjoying the moment. He tried to savour every moment with his daughter; he knew that one day she would be grown up and wouldn't give so many hugs.

"Goodnight, sweetie. I love you," he whispered and put her into her bed, pulling the blankets over her.

Matthew stepped back as Harry approached, watching his every step. When Harry had closed the door, Matthew smiled. "Have you changed your mind yet?"

"No. I know I want this," he whispered. He also knew that he did not want to spend another night alone, Draco's trousers as his only companion.

Matthew sobered. "Good."

They were both nervous and as they closed the steps between them, Harry began to shake. Matthew held him tight, their cheeks pressed together. "Last chance to step back, Harry," he whispered. "I'm not stopping after this."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Harry stepped away, not because he wanted out, but to lead the way across the hall into his own room. Their fingertips held loosely together, Matthew pressed against Harry's backside as they closed the door. Harry turned and whimpered as Matthew kissed him. Matthew was not in the mood for games, Harry thought as they kissed harshly, but he was not in the mood to complain. Harry reached around and clutched Matthew's butt, pulling him closer, grinding against him. They began moving to the bed, Matthew unbuttoning Harry's shirt.

"I've wanted this," Matthew gasped, pushing Harry onto his back, "for so long."

Harry sat up and began undoing the other man's trousers as Matthew took off his own shirt. Matthew licked his lips as Harry freed him of his boxers. Harry slowly stroked him. "You're so thick," he said without thinking. But he could not help but get more nervous. Draco had been smaller than this. Surely it would hurt more, especially after so long.

"I'll be careful," Matthew bent down and kissed him while ridding Harry of his trousers. They were rushed and needy, fingers pressing against warm flesh, hot breath against lips and sensitive skin. Harry was pushed against the mattress, his glasses cutting into his nose, his knees sliding apart each time Matthew brought his weight down against… inside… _right there_.

"Please… more," Harry turned his face away from the mattress, his breath coming in moans. How had he waited so _long_? He had forgotten how good it was to be filled so completely, with so much pressure in all the right spots. Hands gripped his hips so tight there was sure to be bruises in the morning. The pace was jerky and quick, and Harry thought he would die when Matthew reached around and touched him. Instead, he cried out as his body jerked against Matthew's, and he fell limp. Moments later, Matthew grunted loudly, and slowly, tiredly lowered himself onto Harry's back.

They each lay attempting to catch their breath for some minutes before Matthew finally lifted his head to kiss Harry between the shoulders. He pulled away and Harry whimpered at the loss of his body. "Come lay under the blankets," Matthew said softly, brushing his fingers through Harry's dishevelled hair. Harry followed him limply.

Once situated stomach to stomach, they kissed lazily for a couple minutes before Harry leaned back to yawn. Matthew smiled at him and brushed his wild hair back with his hand.

"Go to sleep."

"That felt good," Harry mumbled his voice groggy.

"For me too. Now sleep, Harry."

"Mmm…" Harry let his eyes flutter closed as Matthew's arms enveloped him completely. As he drifted off to sleep, Harry let himself imagine that it was Draco holding him, and the world was right again.

Harry blinked his eyes open, groaning as the sunlight hit his face. It had to be early, he thought. He looked over at his clock and saw that it was only half past six. "Six-thirty," he groaned, rolling over. He then realised he felt funny. He reached behind himself and touched his skin. It was sticky. And then he remembered.

Matthew.

Slowly, Harry turned his head and looked to the other side of the bed. Matthew was sprawled over the blankets, completely nude, his head back, and his mouth hanging slightly open.

Harry sat up slowly, blinking around the room. He was not quite sure what he was to do next. "Shower?" he whispered. Sleep was beyond comprehension now that he remembered what they had done.

Quietly, he put the blankets back over Matthew and stepped out of bed. There was a bathroom on the other side of the room, and he walked across it hurriedly, afraid that Matthew would wake to see him naked, though the reasoning behind this was beyond Harry.

The shower was warm and reassuring to Harry's awakening mind. Every time he blinked, Draco's face was there. Draco would understand. But would Matthew understand that Harry was now having doubts? Harry scrubbed violently, but when all was clean, he could still feel the guilt eating at him. He faced the spray of hot water and raised his shaking hands to the wall, pressing them against it.

"Draco is dead," he told himself. "He can't come back and tell you what an arsehole you are for cheating on him. He's dead."

Harry brought his hand away from the wall, watching it shake violently. He clenched it in a fist and pounded the wall. Instantly, he regretted it, hoping he had not awoken Matthew. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, towelling off and wrapping his dressing gown around himself. However, when he re-entered the bedroom, Matthew was gone and the bed was made. His clothes had been picked up and any trace of him had vanished from the room. Frowning, Harry went in search of him. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. What if that had been all that he had wanted? Harry wondered frantically. But why wait so long for it?

"Matthew?" he called when he got downstairs.

"In the kitchen," was the answer to Harry's immense relief.

"I thought you had left," Harry confessed, walking around the corner. Matthew had his trousers and shirt folded on the counter, wearing only his boxers. Harry raised a brow and making sure not to show how much his hands were shaking, pressed them against Matthew's sides, and kissed his shoulder.

"No. You put the blankets on me so I woke up."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't tell you that I always kick off the blankets in the night. I'm warm-blooded," he grinned. "I get really hot, especially if I have sex."

Harry smiled against his shoulder. "What are you doing?" But he could smell the food cooking.

"I decided to make you breakfast before I left."

"Where are you going?"

"I have practice," he turned around in Harry's grasp and kissed him. "I really don't want to leave you though. I want to stay in bed all day."

"Ayida will be up soon anyway."

"I suppose she will be. Can I come back after I shower and change after practice today?"

"I'll leave the door open. I have an idea," Harry felt inspiration spark. "Molly has wanted Ayida for ages. If she's not busy, I think she'll take her for the day and maybe even the night." He wiggled his brows, to which the taller man laughed.

"If I've somehow awakened a sex fiend…"

Harry's eyes glinted mischievously and his hands slid down and grasped Matthew's arse. "You'll go along with every bit of it."

Matthew nodded, licking his lips. "I know I would." He kissed Harry's forehead. "I have to finish these eggs."

Harry nodded and pulled away. He backed up and leaned against the wall, watching the other man work. The shaking was diminishing, but he still could not shake the feeling that this was wrong. The muscles in Matthew's back worked delightfully, giving Harry one reason to believe that it somehow _wasn't_ wrong.

"Hungry?" Matthew asked over his shoulder as he spooned food onto two plates.

"Famished," Harry studied Matthew's arse, and he bit his lip, hoping that his physical attraction was not the only thing keeping Matthew around. He owed more to him than that. And if Matthew were in it for the long term, Harry would make sure to give him everything he deserved. The way he saw it, they would both win. Matthew would get Harry.

And Harry… well, he would not have to be alone.

* * *

**Post chapter notes:** I know that some of you will be upset by the newest development with Matthew, but I've said it before and I'll say it again that I'm trying to keep this as realistic as possible. At any rate, I do hope you've enjoyed this chapter. This was more of a filler than anything, so that usually means that the following chapter gets into the plot. And in this case, that is the case!

So, please review to tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's notes:** The lyrics are Dave Matthew's Band, Out of My Hands. Thanks to everybody who continues to read and review as well as to my awesome beta, PadfootsBitch. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter:-D

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Four_

_Out on my window ledge  
I don't feel safe  
And I stay  
Looking down on you _

It's out of my hands for now  
It's out of my hands for now

I can't just walk away  
Be nice to walk away  
But I don't feel safe  
Get away, all the way up here

"Okay, where's the birthday girl?"

A chorus of shouting and whooping broke out among the assembled crowd as Oliver Wood and Matthew came stomping into the house. There had been rain falling since the last day of August, and even now nearly two weeks into September, it still rained. Everywhere the ground had turned to mud, and a person had to take extra care so as not to slip. The two men took off their shoes and hung their cloaks before they began greeting people.

"Mattew!" Ayida yelled triumphantly and skipped to him. "Did you bring presents?"

"Ayida!" Harry admonished as he levitated multiple trays of food out of the kitchen. "At least say hello first."

"Hello, Mattew! Did you bring presents?"

"Yes, you little chatterbox, I brought presents!" Matthew messed her hair.

Hermione cringed. "I _just_ did her hair, Matt."

"Sorry, love," he shrugged and then swung Ayida into his arms. "Are you having fun at your birthday party yet?"

"Yes! Grandmum, Grandpa, Grandmother, Uncle Ron, Auntie Herminne, Uncle FreGeorge – "

"Fred _and_ George," Harry corrected her as he walked by. "They're two people, sweetie."

Ayida took a deep breath as if about to say something very important. "Aaand…" she smacked her lips, "they here to see me."

Oliver Wood stood to Matthew's side, smiling at her. "And how old are you today, Ayida?"

With eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she held up three tiny fingers. "Four!"

Matthew feigned surprise. "Why… I have never met _anybody_ who is a whole _four_ years old! Ayida, my dear, I have to put you down so that I can shake your hand. I came here to celebrate a birthday, but never in my wildest _dreams_ did I imagine I would meet somebody who is four years old! And you look so pretty!"

Ayida smiled up at him and held out her hand proudly. "Me _Ayida_, and I'm four!"

"A gentleman has given you a compliment, Ayida. What do you do?" a snobbish voice said from the shadows.

Ayida turned back to the woman speaking, grinned and then curtsied to Matthew. "Fank you."

"You're most certainly welcome," Matthew bowed, looking to Harry, who was frowning at Ayida. Matthew had a sudden rush of foreboding and glanced to the corner the voice had come from.

"Everything here going all right?" he asked Harry as Ayida ran to play with what Fred and George were setting off; a new prank no doubt.

Harry's smile was strained. "Fine," he kissed Matthew's cheek. "Narcissa is here," he said more quietly. "Everybody is a little on edge because of it."

"Why did you invite her then?"

"She's Draco's mother," he replied as if it were obvious. Matthew still did not get it.

"That's no reason if nobody likes her."

"Ayida would have wondered had she not come. It was so much easier when she was a baby. She never knew the difference." Harry sighed, turning back around to stare at everybody. "I hate being around her. I really do. I never know what to talk to her about, Matt, because all I really want to talk about is Draco, and I swear she would have hexed me if I had continued on the last time that I mentioned his name. I just want to blame her for everything."

Although Matthew could understand Harry's viewpoint, it still hurt at times when Harry spoke like this. If Draco had never died, they never would have met. Or perhaps they would have, but it would have been under much different circumstances. Of course, sometimes, he was not so sure that Harry really cared about him the way he cared for Harry. They had been together for two years now, and Matthew could say with certainty that he loved Harry. Not only that, but he loved Ayida as well. More than anything, Harry seemed sorry that he did not feel the same way. It had always been quite obvious that Harry cared for Matthew, but since the very beginning it had been the same. Harry cared for him a lot, and that was it.

It was evident that it all stemmed back to Draco Malfoy. Harry did not talk about it much anymore, but Matthew knew that he believed Draco was alive somewhere, even if the belief was not that strong anymore, it was there. Because of this, Harry held back almost everything that would be beneficial to their future together. Once the belief that Draco was alive was gone, maybe they could move on together. Maybe Harry would put his all into their relationship.

"Tonight is about Ayida, not her grandmother or her father. It would be much better if you were to stop dwelling on it altogether, Harry."

Harry nodded minutely, and Matthew did not miss the movement Harry's eyes made when they looked at a small picture of Draco that sat on a small table beside them. "I know, Matt," he sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry."

Taking Harry's hand, Matthew led them back into the crowd to help Ayida celebrate her birthday. Hermione struggled up from her seat on the couch, being now close to nine months pregnant and approached Matthew, taking him by the hand and leading him to where Matthew had heard Narcissa speak to her granddaughter. The leather chair in which she had sat was now empty, and Hermione pulled Matthew behind it near the small bookcase. It was dark in the corner, and even Harry who was staring so hard at them could not see them clearly.

"I know what you think about," she hissed to him. "I can see it in your eyes… and Harry's. I've watched you for a while now. It's there every time Draco is mentioned. But I've always known Harry still believes he's alive. The question is why do you want to know the answer? What if he _is_ alive? Do you know what that will mean for you?"

"It means," Matthew grit out, "that I will be erased from Harry's life as we know it. I will be cast out like last week's dinner. I _know_, Hermione."

"Then why do you want to know?"

"One way or another, I will know which way my life will head. Right now, I have no _bloody_ clue, and I hate it. If he is, in fact, dead then I'll know that he'll still want me. If he's alive, then I'm gone, and I'll find somebody else. Don't get any foolish notions in your head about it, Hermione. My reasons for wanting to know are purely selfish."

"Yes, but they're for good reason. I'm probably one of the only people in this room who hate that Harry started seeing you so soon, or ever rather. I was all right with it at first. In fact, I thought it was a good idea, but then I could see why Harry wanted you. And I didn't like it. Maybe his feelings have changed, I don't know, Matt. But if there is reason to let go of Draco, then he needs to know." She poked his chest hard. "And when he knows, he can stop hurting you."

Matthew grimaced, rubbing the spot on his chest. "How did you know that this was on my mind tonight?"

"As soon as I heard Narcissa was coming, I knew that Harry would be uptight the whole time, and then I knew he'd talk to somebody about it. He always does. As for that old croon, Narcissa, I don't trust her as far as I could throw her while pregnant. However, I don't believe that Draco is alive. He would have come back to Harry by now if he was. Since you need solid proof, I would suggest starting with Narcissa."

"I don't know what to do though." He felt helpless when the case was so personal. His future rested on what he would find.

"Just talk to her. You're a people person, Matt. Try to steer the conversation toward what you want to know. She might say something a little off, and then you'll have to go from there."

Matthew shifted his weight and looked out at everybody. Narcissa was standing coldly outside of the group, looking down her nose at all the people gathered. Her blonde hair was long, swept pristinely down her back, contrasting against her dark blue robes. "She looks like a bitch," he muttered.

"She is," Hermione stated matter of fact. "She never speaks to any of us, only Ayida, and only then to teach her some sort of behavioural lesson as if she thinks Harry is lacking in his parental skills. Sometimes she speaks to Harry when he tries. It's a wonder Draco ever turned out as well as he did…. But I'd say he still picked up her bitch attitude sometimes," she added as an afterthought. "Anyway, are you going to do it?"

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Good. If you need help with anything, you know where to find me, though being pregnant, I doubt I can help you that much."

"Thanks."

It took much courage to speak to Narcissa Malfoy. Matthew waited until cake was distributed to approach her, but only because he was more afraid that she was about to leave. "Mrs. Malfoy," he bowed his head courteously. "It's an honour to finally meet you. I'm Matthew Pickleworms."

She looked down her nose at him. "I know who you are, Mr. Pickleworms. You come from Muggle parentage, do you not?"

"My mother is a Muggle, yes, but my father is a wizard."

"There is a fine distinction between a proper wizard and one of Muggle parentage. Your father does not come from a line of wizards, does he?"

Matthew took an inaudible breath, attempting to keep his cool. "No, my grandparents are Muggles. But my father, Mrs. Malfoy, do not mistake, is a wizard – a fine _and_ proper wizard, if I might say so."

"It is a little presumptuous, but yes, you may say if you are so inclined."

Matthew took a small breath, silently asking for patience. "Well, I have heard much of your son and what a wonderful person he was."

"I would assume you would have, what with the company you choose to keep."

"Then in your opinion, was your son, Draco, a proper wizard?"

"He is of fine blood, but blood does not always make the wizard proper. I always did all I could to assure that my son would become a man I would be proud to call my blood. Sometimes, I think it better that he is around no longer so that he will not remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced. He's better off the way he is."

Narcissa stared hard at him. Matthew returned it. "You mean dead."

"It would be better for all of those involved to drop it, Mr. Pickleworms. My Draco exhausted all of his words on any subject three years ago when he killed himself. Now if you will excuse me, I must be getting home."

"But your granddaughter hasn't opened her presents yet."

"She has already opened the present I brought. Goodnight, Mr. Pickleworms."

Narcissa moved with fluid grace as she went to say good-bye to Ayida. Harry intercepted her as she moved to the door, had a few words that he could not understand from where he stood, but he watched as Harry kissed her hand and she left the house without looking back.

"So what's the verdict?" Hermione approached from behind.

"I think she knows that I want answers, and I think she's hiding something. She said 'is of fine blood' when referring to Draco. Then she said that he's better off the way he is, which could mean just… well, dead. But then she said that it would be better for everybody involved to drop it."

"That could mean anything," Hermione said reasonably.

"Not the way she said it." Matthew turned from looking at Harry to look at Hermione, his learning from the university kicking in. "I need to see Draco's grave."

"Why?"

"I just need to see it."

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"I know, but I need to see it. Will you take me?"

Hermione nodded. "If you think it will help."

The graveyard was dead and cold, the open fields not offering any shelter from the wind, save a few scattered trees. The rain had stopped for the morning but forlorn clouds still covered the sky, whispering of more rain to fall. Matthew looked grimly up at them as Hermione led the way. He hated the rain and had always held dreams of moving somewhere warm and sunny. However, those dreams had been put on hold when Harry had come along.

"I believe he was buried under a tree next to his father," Hermione was saying ahead of him. She had stopped and was looking around. She held her robes up past her ankles, but mud was still caked around the hem. "I remember Harry being upset over it, but not saying anything. He wants to be buried next to Draco, but Narcissa's site is on the other side of him. I knew he should have had more of a say in the funeral. Well… I really doubt she would have gone along with anything he had said. Goodness, this weather is dreadful," she shivered as a gust of wind whipped around her.

Matthew withdrew his wand and cast a warming spell on her. She turned her head to smile, but kept walking. "I think it's that one," she pointed to a tall beech tree.

"Let's have a look then."

Hermione slipped and just barely kept her balance. Matthew hurried to catch her up and took her arm. She clutched her bulging stomach. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just hard to manoeuvre with a big belly," she smiled. "Don't worry about me. Let's just look at what you need to look at and get out of here."

The graves beneath the tree slowly grew bigger and bigger as they neared. Matthew wanted to walk faster, but decided to stay with Hermione. She huffed alongside him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," she read before he could even read what was there. "That's the one. What's your plan?"

Instead of answering, he let go of her arm and went to take a closer look at the large headstone. It rose to his chest. He reached out and ran his fingers over Draco's name. "If you're really here, Draco, let Harry go. Let him love somebody else, even if it's not me," he whispered. "Let the investigation end here. Please. Let me have Harry."

Pulling out his wand again, he started murmuring Latin phrases, drawing the point of the wand in circles above his head. A whirlwind kicked up and beads of water from the grass and top of the headstones all around were sucked up into it, creating a magnificent sight. Hermione gasped quietly, transfixed by the swirling colours and shapes within the cyclone. Then, Matthew brought his arm down as if chopping wood and the whirlwind collapsed into the ground with a crash. The earth around them shook and the tree sent its water falling to the floor. He panted as the magic took effect and the image of the grass, and dirt began to wave, the ground becoming transparent. Hermione moved forward, awe written across her face. Matthew looked to her and when he looked back to the ground, he could see a coffin – Draco's coffin.

"The ground is there, just transparent." Matthew said, though Hermione did not say anything.

"What now?"

"We wait for the magic to go through the wood. It's more difficult to get through wood. That's why I held the spell for as long as I did."

"We'll see inside? But what if there is a body? Surely you won't end there, Matt. It could be Draco, but it might not be."

"We'll get to that when we see."

Slowly, the wood began to clear. Matthew's heart pounded steady in his chest. When the coffin was transparent, both exhaled loudly.

"Empty," Hermione whispered. "What does that mean?"

Matthew looked to her, blinking owlishly. "You know as well as I do what that means, Hermione."

"I know," she swallowed. "I just need to hear it out loud."

"It means that… either Draco has been brought somewhere else or… or he is alive."

"And what do you believe, Matt?"

Swallowing thickly, Matthew looked to the ground again, choosing what he would say. "He's alive. If he were dead, Narcissa would keep him in the grave, not bring him into her home, or anywhere else. Unless she's extremely depraved…." He smiled with no humour.

Hermione nodded. "I just don't understand. W…why would Draco not come back to Harry? Why leave?"

Matthew continued to watch the ground as it seemingly solidified, and tried to put his Ravenclaw mind to use. He could figure this out. He knew he could. Thinking back to his conversation the previous night, it came to him quickly. Narcissa's words.

"So that he will not remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced," he murmured.

Hermione was confused. "What?"

"He doesn't remember," he turned to look at Hermione, his eyes wide. "Narcissa did something to him. It's not because he doesn't want to come back to Harry. It's because he doesn't know that he has somewhere to go back to. Narcissa told me that she thought it was better that Draco can't 'remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced.' She didn't mean that he was dead."

"You think it's true," Hermione murmured, her bottom lip shaking, "That she would do such a thing?"

"I can't think of any other explanation as to why he wouldn't come back. He's had to have heard by now that Harry is still alive. He would have come."

"We have to find him. I have connections in the Ministry, Matt. They'll find where Narcissa goes, who she speaks to… she probably talks to Draco. With any luck, we'll get something on her so that we can lock her up. We'll need proof that she did this, if she did."

"We need to get started immediately." Matthew pulled on her hand and she followed.

"Matt, we can't tell Harry until we're sure. We can't do that to him."

Matthew did not answer right away. His mind worked furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, he stared at Hermione who looked quite resolute. No, it would not do to say anything. "I'm not going to tell him until I've spoken to Draco."

The pair fell silent as they walked back to the car. They had driven because Hermione had been advised against magical ways of travel while pregnant, so she and Ron had purchased a vehicle. They held hands tightly, alone in their knowledge. It began to sprinkle rain as they walked along.

"You're so brave," Hermione sniffed, wiping a drop from her cheek, "giving up Harry like that. I don't know if I could do the same in your situation. If I had to give Ron up… I don't think I could."

"It'll be fine. Nothing will really change for me."

Hermione blinked up at him. "I don't understand. Everything will change for you."

"Well…" he faltered. "It's different, isn't it? Ron loves you completely. Harry has never loved me, Hermione, as much as I've wanted him to. It was purely physical for him, a means to end loneliness. And it fooled everybody for a while, including me, but now that I have this knowledge, I can't pretend. Well," he sighed, "I'll have to pretend for Harry until I know more, but…"

"It'll be hard," Hermione finished, though she still had a knit to her eyebrows suggesting she did not understand what he was getting at. She climbed into the passenger's seat as Matt took the driver's.

"That's an understatement," he started the car. "The hardest part will be when and if I get to meet Draco, meeting the man who already has what I want, but doesn't even know it… assuming Draco really can't remember." Hermione placed her hand on his.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I wish it could be different."

"Well," Matthew sat up straight. "No use crying over spilled milk, my mum used to say. Where to, Hermione?"

"The Ministry. I'll probably be there for a while, so you can Apparate from there. I'll be fine in driving home."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll call you when we've found something. Just sit back and wait until then, and don't let on that anything is wrong, Matt. Harry will get paranoid, and we want to keep him in the dark."

An hour later, Matthew Apparated in front of Harry's home. The sun was peaking out from behind the clouds, but it offered no warmth. As he walked up the muddy path, the door opened and Harry poked his head out with a grin. "Matt! I was hoping you were coming over today."

Despite his mood, Matthew could not help but grin back. He entered the house without a word, wrapping Harry in his arms and kissing him keenly. He ran his fingertips through Harry's hair, down his cheek and neck, rubbing his nose along and pressing his cheek against Harry's. Matthew inwardly sighed. Oh, he could not let this go. Not now.

Harry sighed, hugging him tight. "This is nice," he said quietly.

_Yes, and you're not mine,_ Matthew thought devastated. "I've wanted to do this all day," he said instead. "I've wanted to kiss you and hold you… and I have just wanted you."

"So kiss me," Harry pulled slightly away, his face quite serious.

So Matthew did as he was told, all the while the ache in his heart mounting.

"Matthew! It's magnificent!" Hermione's head beamed through the fire. He was in his own flat a week later, preparing to go pick up Harry and Ayida for a day out when Hermione's head popped into the fire. "We found him! He's alive and well, though we don't know the state of his mind. He's in Puerto Rico and has been for almost six months. He goes by Kalen Mortimer. We got some dirt on Narcissa as well, but that's not what's important right now. Draco is alive!" She let out a short, high pitched laugh, her eyes sparkling.

Matthew dropped to his knees in astonishment. Somewhere in the past week, he had convinced himself that it was not real. Draco was dead and there was nothing more to it. Now here Hermione was telling him that Draco was alive and living in Puerto Rico of all places.

"What am I to do? I'm going out with Harry and Ayida today. I can't see them. I'll want to tell them."

"You can't go to them today anyway." Hermione cringed. "I'm sorry, but I booked you a Portkey that leaves in an hour. You have to pack quickly and get here. Meet me in the Atrium."

"But what about Harry?"

"I'll make up a story."

"Hermione, I need something for proof. Harry won't believe me without it."

"Don't worry about it. There's more to this than you think. Just pack your necessities and get your arse down here."

"Fine, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

The call was ended and just as soon, Matthew went into action. He ran to his bedroom and began throwing everything into a bag. The bag was magically enlarged, so he did not need to worry about size or amount of objects he put in. He glanced at a picture of Ayida and Harry he kept on his bedside table, grimacing as he hurried with his things to the bathroom. Harry would be furious, he was sure, and possibly suspicious of what he was up to. He hoped that Hermione would come up with a suitable story. Better yet, he hoped he was long gone by the time Harry received an explanation.

Just as he promised, he was in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic fifteen minutes later, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He set his bag by the fountain and sat on the edge to wait. Hermione's office was with the Minister's, he knew, but was not sure what floor it was on. Besides, she could be anywhere in the building. He thought it safe to wait. After ten minutes, Hermione came running off the lift, her hand underneath her bulging belly, and her hair askew.

"Matthew, I'm so sorry, but the Minister gave me something that needed to be finished straight away. I did it so quickly I don't even know if I did it correctly." She grimaced. "I really should hurry back to fix it before he gets to it. Well, the Aurors have your portkey in their offices. I'll take you there."

Matthew followed her to the lift and up without a word. She kept glancing at him anxiously, but never said anything either. When the lift opened at the Aurors' floor, Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for them. He took Hermione by the arm and motioned with his head for Matthew to follow him. He had been promoted to Head Auror and now had his own office with windows.

"Sit," he said in his deep voice as he closed the door. "We've still got some time before the portkey activates. Listen, Pickleworms, I know that this trip is more personal for you, but in agreeing to go, you're agreeing to work for us. We're running a criminal investigation on Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco is directly involved. By going to visit him for Harry, means you're helping us."

Matthew nodded. "I understand."

"We've already had a photographer there taking pictures, and we'll be putting a recording spell on you so that we'll have a live feed into him. We want anything that will incriminate Narcissa. Understand that all times, you will be watched, especially when you're with Draco. There is somebody following him at all times. Do not contact Harry. He must not get involved in this until the time is right. That goes for the both of you," Kingsley looked sternly at Hermione. "It's partly for his protection. I have doubts that Narcissa would do anything if he were to show, but we must take extra precautions. So… no Harry, got it? A simple yes will do."

"Yes," both Hermione and Matthew chorused.

"Good. Moving on…. These are pictures of Draco taken in the past few days. I'm positive you know what he looks like, Pickleworms, but he's changed. Get to know his face so that you don't miss him." Kingsley had handed pictures to Matthew. Hermione leaned over his shoulder to look as well.

"Goodness, he's changed so much," she whispered. "Why would he dye his hair darker?" she wondered aloud.

The picture showed Draco exiting a building and locking up. His hair was long now, tied back in a low ponytail. It was still blond, but it had hints of brown and was not quite such a stunning colour anymore. Hermione looked closer and shook her head. "He looks a little bigger, too," she commented, "like he's been lifting weights."

Kingsley sat behind his desk. "We think he dyed his hair under Narcissa's insistence. It could be for the same reason that he's changed his name."

"Which would be why?" Matthew asked, looking up.

"That's what we are hoping you will help us with. Remember, Matthew that if you see Narcissa, get out as fast as you can. She knows who you are, and if she sees you she'll know why you're there. Hermione told me that you spoke to her about Draco. If she sees you, she'll insist Draco move and we could lose him and possibly her as well."

"I'll be careful, Shacklebolt, and I understand what's at stake for everybody."

"Good. The portkey will activate in two minutes," he said checking his watch. "We'll be in touch with you."

Hermione stood and grabbed a pencil holder from the desk, handing it to him. "This is your portkey." She made him stand and then hugged him firmly. "In the end, Harry will be so grateful for you."

"You helped as well."

"Yes, but you're the one who is taking the most risk by going there. And in my opinion, you're more personally involved than I am. You love Harry and you're giving him up to make him happy. If he doesn't love you now, he'll love you unconditionally when this is through."

Matthew looked down. "Yes, but not in the way I wish for him to."

"You'll find somebody," she said quietly, knowing her words were not adequate, but unable to say anything else.

"Thanks," he replied and stepped away. "Give him a good story, Hermione. I was supposed to pick him up a half hour ago."

"I will. Be careful."

He waved to her just as he felt a jerk behind his navel and he was whipped through the space between London and San Juan. In seconds, he was dropped back to his feet and he swayed, trying to regain his equilibrium. A clock on the wall across from him said it was just eight in the morning here. He sighed. Just what he needed… the day to start all over again.

"Welcome to San Juan!" a jovial voice exclaimed. "You are Matthew Pickleworms?" Matthew looked around to see a witch with long black hair in casual blue robes. He nodded, blinking. "You're in the British Auror Headquarters, which is located in the wizarding District of San Juan."

Matthew looked around confused. The room they were in had no windows, cream walls, one desk and a small Muggle refrigerator. "This is your headquarters?"

The witch laughed, but it held no humour. "Actually we're just renting this place for the investigation. We're above a wand shop."

Matthew studied her. "Not exactly the assignment you were looking for then?" he smiled.

She waved his assumption away. "No, it's fine as any job is. I'm just tired today. Malfoy had a late night last night. Anyway, I'm Imogene Price. I'll be one of the Aurors you report to every night. Come, I'll show you to your hotel and you can get settled in. I'll debrief you afterwards."

Imogene led him into another much larger room which had windows lining every wall. It was a beautiful, clear day outside, and they could see wizards and witches doing their early shopping in the street below. Palm trees were everywhere Matthew looked, and he smiled thinking he would like the change.

"How's the weather here?" he asked as they descended a staircase.

"Beautiful and sunny most of the time, at least in the short time we've been here," she looked over her shoulder for a moment. "It's usually in the 60's Fahrenheit, low 70's. The high today I think is supposed to be 79, I believe, so I hope you brought light clothes."

"I packed everything I own," he admitted sheepishly. "I was given very little notification of this trip. I think I'll find something."

The two continued to make small talk as she led him down the street. The day was warm already and Matthew basked in the morning sunlight. It was a nice change from the wet September weather they were having back home. The hotel was a large wizarding establishment, and Matthew was given one of the largest suites in the building. Imogene waited on the balcony for him to change into something cooler and to get his clothes put away in the dresser. He slipped into a fitted, red tank top and light trousers. He had only thought to bring the shoes he had on, so made a mental note to buy sandals the first chance he got.

Matthew opened the balcony door with a smile, the light breeze ruffling his hair. Imogene leaned against the rail, looking down on the city. "So… what do I do first?" he asked.

"Ultimately, it's up to you. But I can tell you that he has a routine of sorts from what we can tell so far," she said not looking at him. "Today he'll wake up late. He was at the club late last night drinking. When he wakes, he'll go to the gym and work out for an hour. Then he'll go home to shower and change. Then he might go back to the club. We think he might be in with the owner or actually is the owner. No solid information on that quite yet. He'll go to dinner with a friend, named Stuart. Afterwards, they'll go to the club to see if everything is running smoothly. They might stay for a couple drinks, or they might go home. It depends on how Draco is feeling. Draco usually follows a routine every day, but usually after he works out, it can vary."

"And it's only a little after nine now," Matthew said, checking his watch, having changed it when they had arrived at the hotel. "What gym does he go to? I could go there and try to bump into him." He sighed inwardly. He enjoyed working out, but had done so already when he had woken up about seven hours ago. It was going to be a long day.

"It's the one on the corner down there," she pointed down the street to a large building. "Take a left out of the hotel, walk two blocks and on the left you'll see a wizarding bookstore. Walk across the store, out the door and you're in the Muggle world."

"Just like that?" Matthew was surprised.

"They're not so worried about Muggles around here finding our shops. They place a few innocuous spells on the front of the bookstore and hope that Muggles don't find it. But if a Muggle does happen to walk in, the shopkeepers have to say it's a closed event – invitation only. But it never happens, I hear. Anyway, when you're out, take a right, walk a block and it'll be on the right side. It's not hard to find. It's a big building. If you ever need help, just scratch the back of your head. There will be somebody following you at all times. They'll give you a push in the right direction."

Imogene left shortly after, leaving Matthew to his own devices. He sat on the balcony for a long time, wondering what Harry was thinking at this very moment, and what sort of bull story Hermione had concocted. He eyed the large fireplace in his suite a few times, tempted to call, but thought better of it. When half eleven came, he threw some workout clothes into his bag and left the hotel. The locals eyed him up as he made his way up the street, but he ignored them. They could tell he was not from around here, he knew. His skin was white compared to theirs, even if his skin was normally darker than most.

The Muggle world was just as easy to get into as Imogene had said and soon he was walking amongst people who had no idea that there was an entire world around them that they knew nothing of. Sometimes he felt a little boost of superiority, but squashed it. Most of his family were Muggles and he hated the bigotry in the wizarding world against non-magic people. Harry had told him that Draco used to call Hermione a Mudblood, and idly wondered if the memory alteration (if there, in fact, was a problem with his memory) would make him forget how he changed his attitude towards anybody who was not a Pureblood.

It took him fifteen minutes to walk there and another ten to open a temporary membership. He was thankful that he always had Muggle credit cards at his parents' insistence, because it was the only Muggle means of payment he had. He had a pouch full of galleons, but did not think that the gym would want that. They gave him a tour of the massive building and at his persistence, left him in the changing room. The gym wanted to give him a trial class in anything he chose, but that was not what he was here for. He changed quickly and then went straight to the track to warm up. Running laps, he craned his neck around at everybody, trying not to seem like he was here for the bodies. Warm-up laps usually took him twenty minutes, but today he ran for ten and then went to the floor below where treadmills and bikes were. He slowly walked down the stairs from the track, scanning the room. He stopped at the bottom and under the pretence of stretching, continued staring around. After nearly a minute, he saw the door open and his heart began beating erratically.

It was him. Draco.

Matthew checked his watch in a fit of nerves. Draco had his hair wrapped tightly in a ponytail wearing a tight workout tank top and shorts. Matthew bent to his knee, pretending to do up his lace, but really he watched as Draco went straight for a treadmill. There was one open next to the blond, so he quickly stood and hurried to it. He swore to himself. The pictures of Draco in Harry's house were everywhere. Matthew had his face memorized, but the pictures did not do him justice. Draco had grown into a striking young man. It was no wonder Harry was so taken with him. If Matthew had never met Harry and did not know who Draco was, he would most likely try to talk to him.

'You still have to try to talk to him, you sod,' he thought to himself as he stepped onto the machine. He glanced over before starting the treadmill. Words evaded him, even simple ones like 'hello.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco look back at him, but he ignored him. 'Here's your chance, idiot,' Matthew continued the inner dialogue. 'Say _something_.'

"Come here often?" Matthew finally blurted, and he cringed, smiling in almost an apologetic way.

Draco looked to him with an eyebrow raised, but he continued running in silence. Matthew swore violently in his head. "Every day," Draco finally looked back over with a smirk. "You?"

_Ah_, Matthew thought triumphantly. After three years hearing of nothing but this man and making up a voice in his head, Matthew finally could hear what Draco sounded like. He did not know why he was so interested in hearing the man, but he supposed he just wanted to know the person Harry was in love with. "No, this is my first time… in this particular gym at any rate."

Draco nodded and they fell silent again for a few minutes. "You're a tourist then?"

"Yes, I just got here last night," he lied, because who would come to the gym immediately after arriving, he thought logically.

"England?"

"Yes, I live in Liverpool. You're British; where are you from then?"

Draco waited to answer, obviously deliberating what he should say. But after studying Matthew for a few moments, he smiled slightly. "Wiltshire, but I haven't been to England in a few years."

"Do you miss it? I think I would to a point. I could deal without the weather."

Draco nodded with a small chuckle, pressing the 'up' button for the incline. He let his machine whir for a few seconds before he answered. "I couldn't agree more on that. Although I'm not much for heat either. Sometimes I miss winter, so yeah when I think of it, I do miss it. However, I have no plans to return in the near future. I have no reason to."

Matthew nodded, physically restraining himself from yelling at Draco that he did have a reason to return, two in fact. "I'm Matthew by the way. Matthew Pickleworms." He held out his hand. Draco cautiously took it and they shook.

"Kalen Mortimer," he replied, his eyes now suspicious. "Your name sounds familiar to me."

"I can't think of why it should," Matthew shrugged, but inwardly cringed. What if Draco followed Quidditch still? Would it matter if he knew who Matthew was?

"What do you do for a living?"

"I… well, I'm a professional sports player."

"Rugby?"

"No… it's a little more dangerous than that."

He was not technically supposed to know that Draco was a wizard, so he decided to act cautious. "Explain it then," Draco said, his face still suspicious.

"Well… there are seven players on each team. Three are meant to score goals. One is meant to keep the goals. One is meant to search for an elusive ball –"

Draco was frowning when he interrupted. "A Seeker?"

"You know it?" Matthew smiled.

"Quidditch? Yes, I know the game," Draco snapped impatiently. "I was a Seeker at Hogwarts. What team do you play for?"

"Appleby Arrows," he replied.

Draco looked forward, and he increased the speed of his workout. He was silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, his voice was impatient and strung so tensely, his normally deep voice sounded quite a bit higher than normal. "Matthew Pickleworms… you're a Chaser, the team's best. Your boyfriend is Harry Potter so I'm told, and when you retire you want to work for the Ministry and settle down with Potter. A couple years ago, the Arrows upped your incentive for playing for them and you stayed. I know all about you, Pickleworms, so if your plan was to hit on me, think again. I don't date British men."

Draco pulled the cord from the treadmill and leaped off the machine as it whirred back to its setting position. He looked back at Matthew, his face hard. "I especially don't date British men who already have equally famous British boyfriends. I am not so eloquent in public speaking opportunities." He walked away.

Matthew blinked rapidly a few times, wondering just what in hell had just happened. "I… I didn't even know you were gay!" Matthew stuttered for lack of a better response. He pulled his own cord. "Wonder if Harry will be as interested in the barmy bastard once he figures out he's gone schizophrenic," he muttered darkly to himself and stepped from the machine. "Bloody delusional that one." He watched as Draco disappeared into another room and swore colourfully before making his way back to the changing rooms.

Matthew spent the rest of the day taking small naps and explaining to the Aurors over and over again what happened. Though they had listened to every word, they wanted to know every move he had made while there. Matthew did not see how it would help. The next morning, Matthew was awakened by Imogene at the foot of his bed, demanding that he woke up. Draco had gotten up for the day twenty minutes ago and would be at the gym soon. Matthew was out of bed and running to the gym within five minutes. He barely had time to register what was going on.

Draco was nowhere to be seen when he got there, but he had decided the previous day that he would go about his own normal routine and warm up for twenty minutes on the track. Only five minutes had passed on the track when, to his amazement, Draco ascended the stairs and began running. He was half a lap ahead of Matthew, so he put on a burst of speed. It took two laps to catch up, and when he did, Draco still had not seen him. Matthew pulled in next to him.

"Kalen, I was hoping I'd see you again."

Draco looked over and was immediately annoyed. "Are you following me, Pickleworms?"

"No, I was already up here when you came."

"So you were anticipating my presence here today."

"Only hoping. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't trying to hit on you yesterday. I like to talk to people in the gym, so I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression. It's just natural for me to make friends. Really, it is."

Draco looked at him curiously. "Why are you going through so much trouble to tell me this? I don't even know you."

"I don't like people to have the wrong impression of me. Besides, it's always nice to know somebody in a strange place, especially a fellow countryman, right?"

Draco looked forward and continued running for two laps before he said anything. Matthew followed in silence.

"Yes, it is nice to know somebody," he finally admitted.

"So is it all right if I talk to you? I promise I don't want anything more."

Draco looked over and smiled ruefully. Matthew could not help but return it. "It's all right. I'm going to go lift some free weights. Do you want to join me?"

"Sure," Matthew nodded, inwardly congratulating himself.

For the next half hour, they lifted in near silence. Matthew studied Draco surreptitiously, wondering what this was leading to. He hoped he could find some useful information so that they could apprehend Narcissa and get this horrible ordeal over with.

"So, what do you do here in San Juan?" he asked Draco as he laid on the bench press. Draco stood over him as the spot.

"I moved here because of a friend I met a couple years ago," Draco replied as Matthew began lifting. "He wanted help with a place he had just bought and was renovating it into a dance club. He thought I had stellar taste in fashion, or some such nonsense." Draco flashed a grin. "To him, gay equates fashion expertise. Although, I do say it turned out better than it would have if he had been making all the decisions. Anyway, Stuart, that's my friend, is back and forth from America and here. I kind of manage it for him while he's away."

Matthew finished the repetition with a grunt. "Do you enjoy it then? You didn't really strike me as a businessman type."

"It can be rewarding in its own way," Draco shrugged. "Something to be getting on with at any rate. I've been a bit bored since I left home. Just been travelling, you know… I like having something to keep me occupied. Besides, I know business pretty well. My father was into real estate. He taught me a lot when I used to follow him around."

Matthew smiled slightly. "Think you might expand on your own business in the future?"

Shrugging, Draco grasped the bar. "Do another set." Draco watched him for a few moments before he answered. "I don't know. The family fortune is quite sizeable because of how well my father and his father expanded it. Perhaps someday... I don't really think past today though."

"Right," Matthew grunted as he finished and sat up, swiping at his towel and mopping his forehead. "What spoiled little rich boy _does_ think past today?"

Draco smiled minutely. "Anyway, you should check out the club some night. I'll put your name down so that you don't have to wait in line."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Kalen."

"It's on the corner just past the bank in the District. You won't miss it." Draco paused and glanced around. "Do you have the time?"

"It's a little after ten," Matthew checked his watch.

"Oh, I have to go. I'm sorry. My mother is in town today and she wants to do brunch. Maybe I'll see you in the club? Or here tomorrow."

"Either or," Matthew smiled.

They bid their goodbyes, and Matthew once again watched as Draco disappeared. "That was a little better today, right Imogene," he spoke for her benefit. He just hoped that Draco would not mention who he had met in the gym.

Draco took his time showering and dressing for his brunch date with his mother. His thoughts were too busy for him to move faster. Yesterday, when he had first met Matthew Pickleworms, he had been a little excited to meet such a great Quidditch player. However, Draco could not keep his mother's voice from his head. _Make up any excuse. Leave as quickly as possible. It will not come to any good for someone from home to find you. _

His mother, Narcissa made it habit to read stories from the papers from back home to Draco when they met. She usually steered clear of the gossip pages, but on one particular day she had laughed when she skimmed the page.

"Listen to this, darling," she had smirked, "Matthew Pickleworms, esteemed player for the Appleby Arrows was quoted yesterday in saying, 'I'm happy with my life right now, yes. I have a great career, and a magnificent boyfriend. I couldn't ask for anything more.' When asked about his boyfriend, Pickleworms confirmed the wild rumours that he was seeing Harry Potter. 'We care about each other very much. I believe I understand what his needs are after sustaining such tragedy two years ago. It hasn't been easy so far, but we work every day at the relationship, and we're very happy together.' Pickleworms seemed optimistic while smiling. 'I hope to settle down with him in a few years, maybe after I retire from the game.'" Narcissa looked over the paper at her son. "What sentimental flattery."

"What tragedy?" he asked.

"Oh, just some nonsense about another boyfriend. I admit that I do not remember what happened. Everybody made a big deal out of it just because of who he is. It's of no consequence to us."

Presently, he pulled on his shirt, still curious about the tragedy. He had not thought of that conversation until just yesterday when Matthew showed up in his local gym. Matthew and his indiscretions had never been foremost in Draco's mind after all. In fact, he did not know if the two were still together. They could have broken up ages ago. Narcissa might know, but it would not bring any conclusions to ask as she would tell him to think of things with substance. Besides that, bringing up his chance meeting with Matthew did not seem like a good idea. Narcissa was adamant that he cut all ties with England and he could not agree more… for the most part. Though he had nothing to base the assumption on, just from what his mother had told him.

There had been tears in her eyes when she first explained that he had done something that should never be brought up in civilized conversation. She was protecting him from himself, she said. But Draco had never felt as though he could commit a violent act, and could not understand what he had done that was so terrible. He wished he could remember, but Narcissa had an explanation for that as well. He had been traumatized. He had blocked out all memory of the crime because he had no desire to know.

But he _did_ have a desire to know everything he had forgotten, and it burned so deeply within him that some days, he did not know what to do with himself. The gym helped to clear it away, but he could always feel a void within him. And he wanted to know what needed to be there.

There was an important blood connection between Draco and Narcissa, and he treasured that, especially after his father had died (though he had no recollection of his death or funeral; he just knew it to be so). When all was said and done, there was still certain mistrust between them both. Draco did not always trust what she told him, and Narcissa did not trust Draco's actions. She watched him like a hawk, though as of late, she had been around less, which suited him just fine.

"Soon, Draco," he whispered to himself in the mirror. "Soon it will all come back to you, and you won't ever have to hide again. Kalen Mortimer… hell."

He hated the name with an unadorned passion. It embodied everything that he had become in the past few years. He was not Draco Lucius Malfoy anymore; he was an empty shell of who he once was. Narcissa knew it. They both knew it. The only difference was that Narcissa seemed to enjoy it.

Checking his appearance once more, he nodded in appreciation and Disapparated into the wizarding district. The day was beautiful, sunny and clear. The red robes he wore were light and charmed to keep cool. He walked along the cobbled street leisurely, knowing quite well that he was already ten minutes late. Narcissa favoured an outdoor café across from the wand shop, and was already sitting beneath an umbrella adorned table, reading a newspaper, the food for both had already been set down.

"Mother," he greeted her, bowing his head.

"You're late."

"I apologise. I lost track of time at the gym today."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. She hated the gym and anybody who would choose to pay to go to such a dirty establishment. It was just another reason for Draco to go. He had never quite grown out of taking part in activities simply to annoy his parents.

"You really underestimate it, Mother. It helps let off a lot of steam."

"And do you have a lot of steam to let off, Draco?"

"My name is Kalen, Mother. I know you're well aware of that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He decided to change the subject. "Is that the Daily Prophet? Anything interesting in it today?"

"Do try to speak in complete sentences, son. To answer your question, no, there is nothing of interest in the paper today. To think that the top story was the birth of Hermione Weasley's baby boy late last night and they put it on the front page. The things they'll do for a story."

Draco blinked. "Hermione Weasley?" he asked befuddled.

"She's the junior undersecretary to the Minister and a Mudblood at that."

"Weasley is her married name? What's her maiden name? Granger?"

"I believe so," Narcissa looked at him disapprovingly. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quietly. "I just remember her from school. She must have married Ronald Weasley then."

"Yes, about two years ago."

Draco fell silent, thinking hard, and playing with his food. He remembered hating Weasley and Granger in school. So why, then did he not feel any sort of hatred towards them now? He felt almost a certain… fondness. It was unsettling. What was more so, was that he remembered there being three of them. But who was the third? There was a particular memory that came immediately to mind at the mention of Hermione. Hermione Granger had hit him across the face in…. Well, he could not recall exactly what year it was in. Perhaps second or third. It was of no consequence anyway. Ron Weasley had been behind her, he could see him clearly. However, there was another person. In the memory, he could not quite seem to draw up any sort of image, but he could feel a presence. There was somebody, but _who_?

"What is the baby's name?" he finally asked some minutes later.

"Alaric Harold, but they'll call him Al, it reads." Narcissa looked up from the paper. "Is there something the matter, Draco? You look pale, and you're not eating."

He shook his head. "I'm not feeling very well, Mother. I think I should go home."

"If you think it will be best for you. I will not be able to come back here for at least a fortnight, darling. It may even be longer than that, I cannot say. If you need anything, Floo me."

"I'll remember to. I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me."

"It is quite all right, Draco. Go home and get some rest."

Draco stood, kissed her cheek and left as quickly as he could. He did not exactly feel physically sick; it was more mental than anything. The mention of Hermione Weasley unsettled him, though he could not explain why. As soon as he arrived home, he collapsed onto his couch and threw his arm over his eyes. He laid there for a long time, wondering what was wrong. It was not until hours later that he decided on a course of action. Going into his study, he pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and composed a letter.

The hospital room was finally emptying after a long day of visitors and Hermione settled back against her pillows with a sigh. Ron sat at the edge of the bed holding their new, tiny son, and Harry sat in a chair beside them, Ayida sleeping soundly in his lap. Hermione still could not believe that her son was here already. Her pregnancy had gone by so fast, but she was content.

"I know you don't need more visitors, but I really wish Matthew had been here," Harry said longingly.

"I contacted him hours ago, Harry," Hermione yawned. "He sent back his congratulations, and that's all I need right now. And maybe a few hours of sleep."

The peace their comfortable group created was not to last long however, as a nurse knocked on the door just as she said this. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Weasley, but a letter just arrived here for you. Would you like to have it?"

Hermione nodded tiredly and held out a hand for it. The nurse left as Hermione tore open the envelope. There was no insignia on the wax, so she was curious as to the sender.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley :_

_I fear I am not sure why I am writing you this letter - _

Hermione stared hard at the handwriting, recognizing it, but not quite able to put a finger on it.

…_, but I was read the news of your new addition this morning over brunch with my mother and felt an urge to do something with the knowledge. So here I am in my study writing to you. You may be startled to hear from me as I have not been to England_ _for some time, so I am sorry if I disturb you in any way. _

_My first order of business in writing is to congratulate you and your husband on what I am sure is a beautiful baby boy. You've made a wonderful choice for a name. It's beautiful, though I daresay my mother is not fond of the nickname, Al. She is of little taste anyway. _

_The second order is to ask you a question. I'm afraid that I've retained little memory of my days at Hogwarts for reasons still unknown to me. After you were mentioned over brunch, however, something came to me. It was a day in our earlier years at Hogwarts (I am afraid I cannot recall which year it was) when I said something to offend you (though I cannot remember what) and you slapped me across the face._

Hermione gasped, knowing who the author was. But she could not believe it. If she had not known he was alive already, she would have been furious. Now she wondered if Matthew hadn't had something to do with it. But why would he tell Draco to write? Harry and Ron looked at her curiously, but she shook her head at them.

_I probably deserved it, the little prat I was back then. But the reason I bring it up is because I know that there were two other people with you. One of which, I am sure was your husband, Ron. The other, I am not sure of. I am attempting to put together shall I say, the puzzle of my life, and I would appreciate it if you could dig through your memories and try to remember who it was that was there. I cannot see anybody in my mind, but I know that there was somebody. _

_I don't mean to sound desperate, but a prompt reply would be appreciated, though I know the new baby will keep you quite busy. And if it's not implausible, perhaps we could arrange to meet someday. I should probably not disclose this, but my mother is adamant I do not speak to anybody from England, but I feel that I need to. So I ask you to be discreet. _

_Sincerely yours,  
Draco Malfoy_

Quickly, Hermione folded the letter and held tightly to it, daring not to look at Harry. She was not supposed to tell Harry anything, and it had been almost easy to pretend that she knew nothing until now. Now when she had a _letter_ from Draco in her grasp, she could hardly contain her emotions. Curiously, she peeked quickly at the letter again and had to blink rapidly to contain her tears. It was true, she realised. Draco was having difficulty pulling up a memory with Harry in it. Slowly, she raised her eyes to Harry and nearly gasped with the pain she felt for him.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've gone all pale."

"It's nothing," she whispered, a terrible lump of dread and despair now lodged in her throat. Just how much was Draco missing? All of it? All of _Harry_?

"Are you sure?" he asked, touching her arm.

She tried very hard not to jerk. "Yes, I'm sure," she whispered painfully.

"Well…" Harry looked to Ron who shrugged. "If you don't mind then, I'm going to get Ayida to bed. I'll come visit you when you're at home tomorrow."

"Of course. I'd enjoy that," Hermione smiled up at him.

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Goodnight," he said and left the room, Ayida still sleeping in his arms.

Hermione looked tremulously up at her husband. "Ron," she whispered brokenly and without further preamble, burst into furious tears. Alarmed, Ron shifted the baby back and forth in his arms for a few moments before deciding to lie him down between Hermione's feet.

"Hermione," he said quietly, coming to wrap her in a hug. She buried her face against his chest and continued crying so hard she began to hiccup. "This has to do with the letter, doesn't it?" Ron asked after a few silent minutes of comfort. He smoothed her bushy hair away from her face and she looked up, her lip trembling. She nodded. "It's about Harry, isn't it?"

"Ron…."

"Calm down before you say anything," Ron said quietly, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Deep breaths, right?"

After finally composing herself, she took one final deep breath and stared at Ron, her eyes beseeching. "I'm such a terrible person."

"What are you banging on about, Hermione? No, you're not."

"I'm keeping something from Harry that I shouldn't. I should have handed this letter to him and explained everything."

"What is it?" Ron asked, eyeing the letter with interest.

She sniffed mightily. "Ron, I can only tell you if you promise to absolutely NOT tell him. The Ministry is involved and if they weren't, I would tell him in a heartbeat. Really, I would."

"Just tell me."

"Matthew and I discovered something the day after Ayida's party. We went to Draco's grave and found it empty," she gushed, relieved to finally have told somebody.

"What?" Ron was shocked, his face gone pale.

"He's alive," she whispered. "And this letter is from him… asking to meet with me. It kills me that he wrote to me, because now I have to turn it in. I can't keep it and I can't meet secretly with him. I have to turn it in. What's worse is that he doesn't…." Before she could finish, she burst into tears again.

Thousands of miles away, Draco stood on his terrace looking at the people below. He felt better than he had all day. Perhaps the answers were already on the way, and at this time tomorrow, he would be able to fill in at least one blank.

* * *

**End Chapter Notes:** Please review! Also, if you would like to knowin advancewhen I will update, as well as teasers for upcoming chapters, feel free to join my Yahoo!group. The link is on my author's page. Just scroll up and click on my name!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author notes:** I'm sorry for the wait. I'm not going to give any excuses, as I know you're probably not interested, so please know that I do have reasons. On a second note, I would like to thank my awesome beta, PadfootsBitch, as well as all my reviewers who continue to offer wonderful support. Also... I can't remember who sing the lyrics here. I don't know why. Brain fart. If you know, leave a note.

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Five  
_

_Hello again  
Seems like forever between now and then  
You look the same  
I mean you look different but you haven't changed_

"Draco's a nice chap, isn't he?" Matthew asked as he delicately put gel into his hair. "A bit abrasive sometimes, but he seems to mean well."

"I've never spoken to him. Are you ready?"

Matthew turned from the mirror to face Imogene, whom he had learned was all about business. She came to his hotel every night to check in on him, even though they listened to his every move. Each night, he would make an attempt at breaking through the veneer she held over her face by cracking a joke. It never worked, but it was not for lack of trying. He had been in San Juan for a week now and had spent time with Draco every night. The previous day, they had spent hours together and had ended up renting a small sports car and took it out of the city. Every minute of the day, Matthew was on edge, but hoped it would not show. His mind was constantly on Harry and there had been more than a few times when Draco had noticed that he was not in their conversation.

"You've listened to our conversations, Imogene," Matthew commented as he fixed his hair, preening for her benefit. He had to try something new each time he wanted to make her laugh. Nothing seemed to strike her funny bone. Tonight, he went for narcissism. "It doesn't sound like he fancies me, does it? I don't want him to be attracted to me. Merlin knows I've attracted more than my fair share of men. I mean, look at me." He turned his head slightly and smirked at her.

Imogene was frowning at him. The smirk fell. No, he thought. Perhaps he hadn't pulled off that joke quite right. Nobody ever said he was a comedian. "No, I don't think so. Would you hurry? You're supposed to meet him in five minutes."

"The club is ten steps from here. I think we'll make it. You can leave ahead of me."

Imogene was attending the club tonight to watch them even as they listened. He was tired of being followed, but was doing all he could to get something on Narcissa so that he could go home. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could begin to move on. Perhaps he needed to do something relaxing, yoga, or maybe Tai Chi.

When they arrived at the club, Imogene joined the queue waiting to enter and Matthew waved at the bouncer as he slipped past. The club was large, with tables scattered around the edges and a great, circular dance floor that recessed into the floor, accessible by several short flights of stairs. A tall flight of stairs led up to a balcony that overlooked the ground floor of the club, which happened to be the location of Draco's and Stuart's office. Matthew looked up and saw Draco standing in the doorway, scanning his eyes over the people. He waved to catch the blonde's attention. Draco nodded at him and Matthew pushed through the people to get closer.

"Good evening, Matthew," Draco nodded as he approached.

"Kalen. Did you get your work done today?"

Draco looked over and smiled. "Only because you weren't here to distract me again, you great brute. I should never have let you talk me into doing something yesterday."

"But you had fun," Matthew winked.

"If you call getting lost for two hours fun…."

Draco looked back to the crowds below them, and Matthew noticed his mood became sullen. "Stuart is here tonight," Draco yelled over the music. "Have you met him?"

"Not yet!"

"Well, perhaps you will tonight."

Once again, Draco fell silent, his face going distant with thought. Matthew wanted to let it be, but he knew that if he let this chance pass, the Aurors would be down his throat. Besides, he liked Draco, and it looked like he had something important on his mind. Taking the blond by the arm, he led him into the office and closed the door. Draco looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"What are you doing?" he said normally now, the music having been muffled.

"There's something on your mind, so we're sitting here until you tell me." He pushed Draco into a chair and he pulled another chair directly in front and sat, crossing his arms.

"I don't need therapy." Draco frowned.

"And I'm not a therapist," Matthew shrugged.

Silence fell over the room and Draco would not look anywhere near Matthew. His eyes darted back and forth, and he opened his mouth a few times, but closed it. "I don't like being put on the spot," he finally said, his voice low. "I don't know what to give you because I don't know what you expect."

"All I expect is for you to tell me whatever you want to tell me. We may have only met this week, but I can tell that something troubles you. You especially don't seem to be yourself tonight. So… tell me what it is, Kalen."

Draco flinched. "It's complicated," he said quietly.

"Start with the easy stuff then."

Draco took a deep breath and looked away at the wall, his eyes distant. "I wrote a letter to…. I don't even know if she is a friend, but I wrote to her."

"Who?"

Draco shifted. "Will you not tell anybody?"

Matthew thought guiltily of the listening charm on him, but nodded without saying a word. Draco sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this…. Hermione Weasley… she's the Jun –"

"Junior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic," Matthew finished, nodding. He had been informed of the letter, and had hoped something would come up about it. "I know her actually. Go on."

"But I didn't write to her for business. I knew her in school. I'm fairly certain that she hated me though. I called her a Mudblood and made fun of Hagrid, the groundskeeper. She liked him." He blinked, as though dredging up a memory, but then shook his head. "Anyway… I wanted her to write back, and I thought that maybe I could meet with her sometime, but she hasn't written. I'm afraid I've done something stupid by writing to her."

"I don't understand. Why would writing to a former schoolmate be a stupid thing to do? At any rate, what made you even think of a girl you seemingly hated in school?"

"I saw the birth announcement for her son. Actually, my mother read it to me over brunch that day you and I first met. I haven't thought about her in years really, but I couldn't get her off my mind after that. I remember hating her, but now that I think of her, I don't. I feel as though I like her, and I don't know why."

"So, you basically have no memory of beginning to like her. I'm sorry, Kalen, but this is not making much sense." Matthew leaned forward in his seat, unconsciously jutting his chin out slightly as though it would help push more information from Draco's mouth.

Draco grew nervous. He fidgeted in his seat. "I've never told anybody around here about this," he whispered, studying his hands. "I don't think I should even say anything."

Nodding minutely, Matthew remained silent for a few moments. "You know you don't have to tell me if you aren't comfortable with it or if it's an issue of trust."

"I don't think you should give me that option, Matthew." Draco smiled thinly and took a deep breath. "It's not that I don't trust you. I don't know why I should tell you because it won't change anything. I'll still be the way I am."

"You could give it a try."

"Might be nice," he murmured through exhaling. "The thing is, is that I don't have much memory of my sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. I remember classes, and I've retained everything I've learned, but time spent out of classes, with whom I spent free time… it's all gone. Even chunks of my earlier years in school are missing."

Matthew bit his lip. This was something. The Aurors had wanted to know how much of his memory was gone. This was progress. "Just your years at Hogwarts are fragmented, or are there more?"

"There's more. I know I was training to become an Auror, but I don't remember anything _but_ that. I don't know if I had a boyfriend, if I lived with somebody, if I was alone. It's all blank. I asked my mother once, but she said that we were estranged so she doesn't know what I was doing then. She doesn't want to talk about it ever. A little over four years ago, I woke up in a strange room wondering where I was and why I was there. I started looking for something or somebody next to me, but I was alone. I felt sick, sore, like I hadn't moved in weeks, my head was pounding, and I just felt… tired, as if I had no stamina to even try living anymore. I… I was sad. Then my mother came in and I asked her what was going on. She said that I had been very sick with the magical flu, and it had been seriously depleting my magic, and that she took me to warmer climates in the hopes I would get better." Draco shrugged, his body sulking in the memory. "I've never found another explanation. Besides, it _did_ take me weeks to regain full use of magic. At first I wasn't able to cast a simple _Alohomora_. That part still seems to fit, but I've always had my doubts. Logically, I've always known that she's been keeping something from me. That's why I wrote to Hermione. I remembered an instance with her when we were young, but whenever I think about it, it's as though there's this… _hole_. She was with somebody, her husband, and though I can't remember anybody else being there, there _was_. He or she is just gone. It's just…." He trailed off, his grey eyes going dark. After a moment, he sniffed and shrugged. "I thought she could help me figure it out." Draco continued to avert his eyes, his body slumping after his confession as though it had been a tightly wound ball within his chest for a very long time. "That's it. There's nothing you can do about it. I don't even know what to do."

Matthew leaned back in his seat, swallowing at the slew of information the other man had just revealed. "Hermione is probably busy with her new baby."

"Yes, that's what I hoped." Suddenly, Draco's eyes lit up with hope, his body straightening. "You said you know her!"

Matthew tried not to wince. Draco already knew he had a connection to Harry. What if he had dug himself so far into a hole that Draco connected the dots? That was not to happen until Narcissa could be taken into custody.

"On occasion, yes," he replied cautiously.

"Would you be able to talk to her for me? Ask her if she could meet with an old schoolmate. Please?"

Matthew shook his head. "I don't know her well enough to be asking favours. We've only met through mutual friends."

Draco's body slumped dejected into the chair once more. He looked to the floor. "I should not have asked you, Matt. I'm sorry. I've just… been in the dark for so long, and I want to know what my mother is hiding from me. I'm not ignorant, despite what she thinks."

"I don't know of any mother who thinks their own child is ignorant."

Draco looked darkly at Matthew. "Then you've never met mine, have you?"

Matthew just barely held back a smirk. Anybody who had met Narcissa Malfoy would understand her son's position.

"No, I suppose I haven't."

Draco stood and went to his desk, opening the drawer. "I nicked this from the bar," he said attempting to get a bit of joviality in his demeanour. Matthew held back a sigh of pity. "Do you want some?" He held up a bottle of liquor.

"I could have a drink," Matthew smiled back at him, wondering if he might get something more out of the other man tonight, or if this was the extent of their conversation. What Draco had just confessed was more than Matthew could have ever dreamed of getting out of him. It only testified to how much Draco had obviously needed to talk to somebody in the past years about his extraordinary situation. However, Matthew needn't worry. Draco seemed to have opened a floodgate concerning his mother, and as he handed a drink to Matthew and draped himself over his chair, he began to talk freely.

"I've always tried to please her and my father… but he's dead, another subject about which my mother refuses to speak. I suppose that's understandable though. I just wish I knew how he died. I'm fairly certain he did something stupid to deserve it." Draco sipped from his glass and looked at Matthew. "He was a Death Eater, you know. For the longest time, I thought that that was what I would turn out to be. I don't know what happened, but somewhere along the line, something changed. My father must have been furious before he died. I'm surprised I wasn't disinherited. Of course, I have no bloody idea what happened. Maybe he never knew my alliances."

Matthew was curious now. He had never heard Harry speak of how Lucius Malfoy had died. Somewhere along the way, he remembered reading of how Lucius had been found in the dungeons of his home, but did not remember hearing of how he died. "What do you think your mother is keeping from you?" Matthew asked, steering the conversation back to where he hopefully wanted it to be.

"I wouldn't be wondering if I knew would I?" Draco smirked, but he turned serious. "No, I have a feeling she does know what I was doing besides Auror training in those years I'm missing. We might have been estranged, but it would not have been like her to not keep up with my goings on. I also feel as though she knows more of my memory loss than she tells me. The first time I asked she told me that I was injured, but that story held up just that once. Now she sticks to 'you fell sick because you were traumatized by what you did, darling. I was afraid that when you woke you would have memory loss. It was all very traumatizing, and I think it might be for the better that you don't remember what happened. I don't want to tell you in fear that you will never return to me again.'" He scowled and drank heavily from his glass.

"By what you _did_?" Matthew asked true confusion in his voice. He had not been informed of this, nor did he think that any of the Aurors knew what Narcissa had told Draco.

Draco's eyes grew wide, swallowing thickly. For a few moments, he seemed frozen in place. Finally, he scrambled up from his chair and tripped to the door. Matthew shot up and caught him by the arm, stopping his retreat from the room. "What does she tell you?"

"It's nothing, Matt," Draco struggled in his grasp, but Matthew was much stronger from his years of Quidditch training. "Really, it's nothing. _Let go_."

"Not until you tell me what she says you did."

"I already told you that she doesn't say anything. She won't!"

"She makes it sound like you did some sort of crime, or what is it, Kalen? What is it?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It's your life she's keeping from you! If you want it back, do something about it!"

"And what do you suggest?" Draco spit out, yanking on his arm to no effect.

He felt frustration at the whole situation begin to boil in his chest. "Do the research, you arrogant son of a bitch! In fact, I'll give you your start, because I can tell you that I have never seen your name in the paper for some heinous crime. You have never done anything wrong."

Draco stopped moving, his eyes hard and cold as he glared up at Matthew. "You wouldn't know if you had seen my name in the paper."

"Wouldn't I?" he challenged. "I live in England. I read the paper every morning."

"That's not going to help your case. You _haven't_ seen my name in the paper," Draco was vehement.

Matthew closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of those Aurors listening in. Throwing any caution he had to the wind, he looked at Draco, his own eyes hard. "I'm not as stupid as you seem to think I am."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I know who you are."

Draco's face slackened. "Kalen Mortim –"

"Draco Malfoy," Matthew interrupted.

Draco immediately began thrashing within Matthew's grasp. "Let go!" However, Matthew did not listen. He kept his grip firm. Draco, realising that he was not going anywhere with Matthew's hands gripping him, growled in frustration and stopped thrashing. "What do you want with me?" he snarled.

"I want absolutely nothing from you, Draco."

"Then why have you pretended this whole time? Why didn't you tell me you knew who I was right from the start?"

"I didn't know," Matthew lied. "I knew I recognized you, and that's why I spoke to you."

"When did you find out?" Draco asked, yanking on his arm.

"A few days ago, something sparked in my mind so I checked it out."

"What did you find?"

"An article in _The Daily Prophet_ from four years ago."

"So I _was_ in the paper!" Draco cried triumphantly.

"But not for what you've been told, Draco."

Draco's face turned desperate. "Then _what_? Matthew, tell me! What was the article?"

Matthew sighed, wondering if he should have gone along with this. He would be in trouble. "It said you died. You were supposed to have committed suicide. That's all I know, Draco. There was nothing else."

"Dead?" Draco whispered his struggles to get away having diminished completely. His body went slowly limp, and only when it did, did Matthew think it safe to steer them back to the chairs. Draco sat with gentle persuasion, and then buried his face in his hands. "That must be why Hermione hasn't written back. She doesn't believe it's me." He looked to Matthew, who had sat back in his vacated chair. Matthew nodded. "Where would a story like that come from? Did my mother do it?"

"I don't know," Matthew shrugged. "I don't know anymore than you do, Draco. I'm sorry."

"It makes sense," Draco nodded. "My mother is trying to protect me. She says I can't go back to England and that I shouldn't converse with anybody from there but her. But why would she tell me that I did something horrible?" Sudden enlightenment overtook his face. "I just need to speak to her about it. She'll tell me the truth. She will have to tell me now that I know that all of England believes I am dead."

Matthew thought quickly. "Do you really think she would? She's been lying to you for years now, Draco."

Draco shrugged. "She's my mother. I have to trust what she says."

"Even after she's lied to you?"

"Yes. Besides, if she did do it, there had to have been a reason to fake my death, right?"

"Listen, Draco, I may not know you very well, but I know you're not that stupid to believe that… I might be able to help you, since I'm more among the living than you are. Maybe I could do a little digging around for you."

"You would do that?" Draco scooted forward in his chair, touching Matthew's knee.

"Of course," he nodded, wondering what on earth he was volunteering to do.

"If it would be a problem, I don't want to impose."

"It wouldn't. But Draco, I'll only do it if you promise me something."

"Anything," Draco nodded vigorously. "Just name it."

"Promise that you will act normal around your mother. You don't know anything. If you want to get out from under her hand, you need to _act normal_. Don't mention that you've met me; don't mention anything about our relationship."

"I'm not stupid," Draco frowned, but he was nodding. "You're crazy, you know. We barely know each other."

Matthew shrugged, unsure of what to say. He was not sure why he had put himself in this situation either. "I like helping people."

Draco's face broke into a broad smile, his eyes lighting up, and his cheeks turned pink. In that moment, Matthew let go of Harry, because he understood why Harry was so in love with Draco. Even so, his chest ached for the person he had lost. "There has to be something I can do to thank you, Matt. Name it, and I'll do it."

"We'll go out for dinner tomorrow night," he said quietly.

"Okay, six, don't be late!" Draco continued smiling and quite suddenly shot forward, wrapping his arms around Matthew's neck. Matthew went stiff, surprised from the sudden onslaught of gratitude. "I'm sorry," Draco whispered still holding on. "I'm not usually like this but… this means so much to me. I haven't known what to do for so long. I'll never be able to repay you."

Matthew slowly returned the hug. "You don't have to. Besides, I might not find anything. You'll have to keep that in mind, Draco."

The blond pulled away, a small smile on his face. "I know, but it feels better knowing somebody is helping." His smile grew again, his eyes alight. "Let's get out of this room. Come dance with me."

Matthew took the hand Draco offered and they stood. "I could do that," he said smiling, though his heart was screaming and for just a moment his thoughts betrayed him. He imagined for just one second that instead of grasping Draco's hand, he had grasped the blonde's neck and squeezed. Tight. Draco's eyes bugged out and as he sputtered for breath, he sputtered out his final wish, "Take Harry. Love him."

He shook his head, clearing it of the thought as quickly as it had come. Ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, Matthew followed Draco from the room. As they descended the stairs, Matthew caught Imogene's eye. She was standing with her back against the bar, a drink in hand. Narrowing her eyes at him, she held up a finger and mouthed 'one hour.' He nodded slightly to show he understood.

Draco led him to the dance floor and drew close, dancing against him. Matthew decided that there was nothing so important to think of, at least for the next hour, so he let himself go and danced with abandon. The blond he held for company smiled and laughed more than he had in the duration of their short friendship. A string seemed to have been cut in Draco's mind and he was free from one more worry.

The time passed quickly as they danced, and when it was five minutes before Imogene's imposed time limit, Matthew wondered what his excuse for leaving would be. However, another man approached them and motioned to Draco.

"Stuart!" Draco exclaimed. Matthew studied him for a moment, taking in his shaved head, large brown eyes and small build.

"Sorry," Stuart smiled at him. "I need to borrow my partner in crime."

"It's okay. Kalen, I'm going to get back to my hotel. Harry has wanted me to call him today, but I forgot."

Draco stopped dancing for a moment. "You're still together?" He quickly shook his head. "Never mind. That's not my business. Anyway, wouldn't he be sleeping with the difference in time?"

"Yes, but he'll have to deal with it." Matthew smirked, squeezing his arm gently. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Draco's eyes grew soft and he nodded. "Six sharp."

Nodding, Matthew stepped away. "I've never seen you like this!" Matthew heard Stuart shout over the noise, and Matthew held in a smile before he disappeared into the crowd. Imogene grabbed his wrist at the door and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the same room he had arrived to San Juan in, only this time there were more people. Much to his surprise, Kingsley Shacklebolt was there sitting on a table. He looked angry.

"Pickleworms, just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Kingsley demanded standing from his seat. Matthew was a tall man, but Kingsley was even taller, and that made him intimidating.

"I told you I would do all I can to get you information. He gave plenty of information, don't you think?"

"If you hadn't blown your cover –" Imogene started, but Matthew cut her off.

"I didn't blow my cover! I told him that I figured out who he is. Believe me there's _plenty_ more that I could have told him." Matthew stared around at the Aurors surrounding him. There were just five, but he felt offensively outnumbered. "But I didn't, and that's the important thing. Besides, I'd place all my money betting that _all_ of you know my feelings for Harry Potter, Draco's _husband_! I'd do anything to make Harry happy, so I'd articulate it's safe to say that you're all _damn_ lucky I didn't tell him more. Because I know somebody back home who would be overjoyed to know of his existence." "That may be true," Kingsley spoke up again, "but we had an agreement when we sent you here."

"I know the agreement," he said tiredly. "I didn't ruin anything. All I did was give him hope that he would someday know what he was doing in those years he can't remember. Somebody had to give him _something_, since all he's doing is giving and he doesn't even know it."

"Now that you've given him something," Kingsley sighed, "we're sending you home tomorrow. We'll have a portkey ready for you at noon."

"I'm not going back until I have dinner with Draco."

"We can't allow that to happen."

"I'm not going to leave until after dinner. Besides, if I leave before, Draco will suspect something and then what do you think will happen? He'll go to the only person he thinks is safe. Narcissa. Do you want that to happen?"

"He's right," a male Auror whispered, who was standing behind Kingsley. Matthew had seen this Auror once before; he thought that he was one who trailed Draco. "He'll go to her."

Kingsley looked back and the Auror nodded at him. "Fine," he relented. "You'll stay for dinner, but your portkey will be set for nine. It will be waiting in this room, so don't be tardy."

"Fine. May I go now?"

"To your hotel," Imogene stressed. "You're not to see Malfoy until dinner."

"Fine," he reiterated and turned on his heel. "I'll walk."

Somewhere in the past five minutes, Ayida had run away and hid somewhere. Harry was frantically searching for her, calling her name. Ron had run further up the road to see if she had snuck into the ice cream parlour or Honeydukes. They were in Hogsmeade after spending lunch with Sirius at Hogwarts. Ron had wanted to mail a package to Charlie before he went home. He still had Pigwidgeon, but the tiny owl would not have been able to make the flight to Romania, where Charlie still worked with dragons.

"Ayida!" Harry yelled frantically. He was fairly certain that the threat of Death Eaters was slim, but instances like these frightened him. Maybe not Death Eaters, but somebody could have seen Harry Potter with his daughter and thought it would be a good idea to take her.

"Lose something?" an amused voice said from behind. Harry felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around. Oliver Wood grinned at him and motioned with his head to look down. Ayida was holding Wood's hand, a sucker sticking out of her mouth.

"Ayida, don't ever let me lose sight of you again!" he breathed, stooping down to pick her up. "I was so worried."

Ayida dropped her head against his shoulder contritely. "I sorry, daddy."

Ron looked back at them from down the street, threw his hands up and jogged back to them. Harry turned to Wood. "Thank you, Oliver. I didn't know if somebody had taken her or if she had just disappeared by herself."

"It's no problem, Harry. I spotted her wandering by Gladrag's happy as you please, singing a little song to herself. I hope you don't mind that I gave her a lolly. She asked me for a sweet as soon as she laid eyes on me."

"No, that's fine," Harry smiled, petting her hair. "I promised her something after lunch."

"Hey, Wood," Ron puffed. "You found the little squirt then?"

Harry blinked, staring at Wood, something occurring to him then. Hermione had said that Matthew had to go away because of something with the team…. It had never added up in Harry's mind, but now here Wood was in Hogsmeade.

"Oliver, didn't you have something with the Arrows the past couple weeks?"

Wood blinked. "What are you talking about? Practice doesn't start for a few weeks yet."

"So you didn't have to go anywhere?" A lead weight dropped into Harry's stomach.

"No, why do you ask?"

Harry turned to glare at Ron. "Because Hermione told me some cock and bull story about Matthew needing to go somewhere for the team. He's been gone for a little over a week, and he has never called. Ron, where the hell is he?"

Ron closed his eyes tightly. "Shit," he whispered. "I did _not_ foresee this happening."

"Ron!"

Grimacing, Ron opened his eyes. "He's in Puerto Rico, but I'm not supposed to tell you! Hermione will kill me, and possibly a few others would like to get their hands on me if I say anything."

"Why is he in Puerto Rico?" Harry insisted fiercely.

"I'm sorry, mate, I can't tell you."

Harry clenched his jaw. "Well… is he working on some sort of surprise?"

Ron blinked. "Er – yes… well, not really, no."

"Ron, what is it!" he demanded loudly.

"I can't tell you because the Ministry is involved in it!" the redhead finally whispered fiercely. "He's doing something for the Ministry there."

"He said he wasn't going to do anything like that until he was done with Quidditch! Why would he work for them?"

Ron looked pained. "It's something to do with Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry grew stony, a tight knot forming in his stomach. "Bloody hell," Wood whispered. "Why's he getting mixed up in things like that?"

Ron hit his forehead with his palm repeatedly. "Because he loves Harry! Quit asking questions! Both of you before you get me knocked off!"

"You're not going to get knocked off, Ron," Harry said annoyed.

Exasperation and betrayal had settled into the pit of his stomach, and he was in the need of more answers. What was going on? Did they have something on Narcissa?

"Where in Puerto Rico, Ron?" he asked.

The redhead groaned, his shoulders slumping. "San Juan. He's in a hotel in the wizarding district. I don't know the name and I don't know when he's coming back. Do you want me to take Ayida to mum's?"

Harry's face split into a wide grin. "You're the best, Ron, thanks! Ayida, do you want to go to grandmum's?"

"Yeah!"

"Good. Follow me home, Ron. I'll pack her up and then you can take her. Thanks, Oliver for finding her!"

Oliver waved bewildered as Ron and Harry disappeared.

Harry dashed about the entire day, readying himself to leave. Ron told Hermione what he had done, and knowing she could do nothing to stop Harry, gave him advice instead. Instead of getting a portkey to Puerto Rico, he got one to the Florida Keys. From there he would Floo to Puerto Rico. That way the Ministry would not become immediately suspicious when checking the travel reports. Hermione said that they would probably be alerted to his presence immediately anyway, but she thought that perhaps they could sneak him in somehow.

The day was long and it was after eleven at night in England before Harry Floo'd into the hotel in which Matthew was staying at. Hermione had his room number as she had been corresponding with him the whole time, so he marched straight up to the top floors where Matthew's suite was located. The day had yet to end here, and the sky looked overcast as if the weather had been less than perfect all day. But the weather was not why he was here. His heart pounded as he knocked on the door. From within, he could hear Matthew muttering something.

"It's not six yet, Dr…" Matthew trailed off as he fully opened the door and saw Harry standing before him.

"Ho… how did you know where I am?"

The annoyance Harry had felt all day had been a slight buzzing in his ears, but now it was a full out ringing. Now he was fuming. The plan had been to not say anything about Ron revealing Matthew's location, but it spewed from his mouth. "Ron told me," he snapped, pushing into the room. "But the real question is, Matt, what are you doing in _San Juan_ when you really don't need to be here? Leave it to the Aurors to do whatever they need to do with Narcissa. What is she to you?"

Matthew closed the door and leaned against it. Harry turned around, his hands on his hips. "Why did he tell you?" Matthew asked faintly. Harry thought he looked a bit green in the face.

"Because I made him!" He threw his hands up. "I ran into Oliver Wood this afternoon and he said that there was nothing going on with the team. So why are you here and _why_ are Hermione and Ron in on it? More importantly, what does the Ministry have on Narcissa? If they have something, I want to know!"

Matthew's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, his forehead breaking out in a light sweat. "It's complicated," he said quietly. Harry watched as the other man pushed away from the door and began to walk past, not making eye contact. He reached out and pressed his hand against Matthew's stomach.

"Well, I have time to listen."

"Actually," Matthew stepped back, "I don't. I have din…"

Anger boiled up, spilling out in a shout. "Skip it! I came here for answers and I'll get them before I leave, Matthew!"

There was something different. Something had changed; it was in the air, almost tangible. Matthew's face remained screwed up as if he was in pain, and he would not look anywhere but at the floor. Suddenly, everything was altered, Harry's emotions, Matthew's course of action…. Harry had lost a battle and he had not known that he was in one. He had lost Matthew, and he was alone again. A certain pressure began within Harry's chest, agony… frantic loneliness… fear. "Please… Matt," he pled quietly, moving in front of the taller man as close as he could get. "Please." He leaned up and kissed Matthew gently, but he pulled away.

Oh… there it was, Harry thought, a knife of pain ripping across his chest. It was over. But why? He whimpered pathetically and staggered over to a chair and sat heavily. "What happened?"

Matthew had turned away from Harry, his eyes closed as if it would help block out his voice. Finally, after many moments of silence, Matthew turned to face him, but still, his eyes were glued to the floor. "Do you want to know why?"

"Yes!" Harry sat forward in his seat.

"It's because… I've known since the day after Ayida's birthday party that I have to break up with you."

Harry stared up at Matthew, disbelief in every line of his face. "No… you don't," he whispered. "I, I don't want to break up."

"Neither do I," Matthew confessed.

"Then you don't…. Dammit, the _least_ you could do is look at me, Matthew!"

"Don't shout, Harry. I'll look at you if you promise to keep calm through what I have to tell you."

"You have more?"

"I have to give you the reason don't I?"

Finally, he looked up, a quiet sob of breath escaping when he laid eyes on Harry. "Don't look like that," he whispered.

"Like what?"

"So small and scared. You'll be fine without me, believe me. I would never break up with you if I didn't believe that." The two men stared at each other. "Can I sit with you?"

Harry scooted over in the large chair in answer. Matthew wedged himself in and after a few instants of awkward shifting, Harry was firmly ensconced within Matthew's arms, looking and feeling for the entire world happier just to have the safe contact.

"Tell me it's a lie," Harry said, softly rubbing his thumb against Matthew's chest.

"I wish I could. But really the only lie I've told _and_ convinced myself on is that we could be happy together."

"We can be! We are!"

"I spoke to Narcissa at Ayida's party."

Harry stiffened, even though he knew the conversation would inevitably lead to the woman sooner or later, he had not expected it so suddenly. "Is she the reason you're breaking up with me?"

"No. But she led me to the reason I'm breaking up with you. Actually, she led the Ministry."

"I don't understand."

"I don't know how to explain it, Harry. I don't know how to start."

Harry sat in silence, contemplating. He was not sure either, because he did not know how the story started. Of course, that was a good a place as any. "Begin at the beginning – the day you realised we can't be together."

Matthew nodded, and seemed to be thinking of the perfect place to begin. "Well," he said, "there's always a good and a bad to a story, but to understand the bad, I'll have to start with the good."

"There's still a good and bad to this? Because I thought we had already covered the bad," Harry sighed, burrowing against the other man.

"Trust me, Harry," he scoffed, "when I tell you even the bad news you'll look back and wonder why you cared that I broke up with you."

"Then quit stalling."

"Okay," he rubbed his face. "After I spoke to Narcissa, my hackles were raised. I became very suspicious of what she might be hiding, and I wanted answers. I asked Hermione to take me to Draco's grave. When we went to the cemetery, it was to discover if anything was amiss. Both Hermione and I looked… and saw nothing but an empty coffin."

"What?" Harry choked, the blood draining from his face. He suddenly felt numb. It couldn't be true. Not after he had stopped believing…. "Somebody took his body?" he asked tremulously.

"We couldn't have been sure but I had a theory – a very accurate one as it turned out."

"God… Narcissa?"

Matthew nodded. "Hermione offered her connections at the Ministry and they began following her. Two weeks ago, she came here to San Juan."

"Why?" Harry whispered, his hands beginning to shake as they always did when faced with the enormity of his emotions concerning anything Malfoy.

"For brunch…" Matthew stalled again, reaching out to hold Harry's arm. Harry felt him squeeze gently. He prepared himself for the worst. "She came here to eat brunch with Draco."

Harry felt the words slowly filter his brain but did not understand what he was hearing. He swallowed three times and blinked rapidly before he finally grasped the concept. Narcissa had brunched with Draco – a dead man. It was ridiculous. Yet, his hands shook uncontrollably. Over the past year, Harry had slowly become numb to the idea that Draco was dead. It was just something that was. It was something that he was forced to live with. He could not remember the last time he had shed a tear over it. The only thing he felt when he thought of Draco was a cold sort of numbness. Draco was dead.

Suddenly, a chuckle escaped his mouth. It was absurd! There was no way Narcissa could have been seen with her son. He was dead! Everybody knew it, including Matthew. How _dare_ he make such an assumption? How dare he disrespect the dead in such a way as to cast some silly charm to see through the ground? Harry continued to laugh.

"This is a joke, isn't it, Matt?" He did not hold the humour long. His face turned hard just as suddenly as he had laughed. "Well, it's _not_ funny, you son of a bitch! Don't EVER joke about Draco being alive, because you won't get me to laugh, Matthew!"

"I'm not trying to be funny, Harry," Matthew held his hands up, his face serious. "Believe me, I wish it had been anybody but me that had to tell you, but I was the only one suspicious enough to go this far with it. I'm telling you the truth, Harry. _This_ is your good news. I'm telling you that by some miracle, Draco is alive. You've been right this whole time. I don't think he would ever be weak enough to kill himself. Ask Ron and Hermione. They know about it too, and it killed them to keep it from you. I think it's the only reason Ron wasn't able to keep his fat mouth shut."

The news began to sink further in. Matthew would not lie about something like this. He wouldn't. But it was so unbelievable. Harry felt the hard lines of his face fall; the rigid muscles in his shoulders and back begin to slacken. "If I find out you're lying to me, Matt…" he left the rest unspoken.

"I would never do that to you, Harry. I know how much you love Draco." Matthew smiled. "I can understand why you love him. I've met him, you know. The pictures you have don't do him justice. He's amazing."

It was an incredible thing to think that Draco was actually doing something at that very moment. He was talking. He was laughing. He was walking. Yet it hurt so badly. They had made sure it was Draco's body before he was buried. It _had_ been Draco. Harry had kissed his lips, had smoothed his hair, and it _had_ been Draco, no matter how cold and unresponsive. It had only been Harry's stubborn insistence that he was still alive, yet all along, he knew that he had never really believed it. It just hurt too badly to think that it was true. He felt his bottom lip quiver, but he bit it. His eyes were dark and wide, but unseeing as they stared across the room out the window.

"And his laugh," Matthew continued, "always sounds like he's pulled off some magnificent scheme."

"It does!" Harry murmured, his eyes lighting. "I've never thought of it that way. It really does!"

Harry felt Matthew's eyes on him, but did not dare look. He could feel the sadness from him, but he chose to block it. There was too much else to process. "Somebody has been following him and taking pictures," Matthew said. "I asked for some of them so that I could give them to you when you found out. I was looking at them when you came. Accio, pictures!" A large stack of pictures flew from beneath the duvet and into Matthew's hand, which he immediately handed to Harry.

Slowly, Harry reached out and grabbed them, gasping as he caught sight of the blond in the picture. "He's changed so much," he whispered, pulling the pictures nearer to his face. The picture had been taken at the gym, and Draco wore a tight tank top and shorts, just as he had the first time Matthew and he had met. "His hair is long… and _darker_," Harry mused, touching Draco's head with his fingertip. "Why?" He looked up to Matthew for an answer.

"For a disguise," he responded with a sigh.

Harry blinked, unable to understand why Draco would want a disguise. But there were more pictures to look through before more confusing questions were brought up. Flipping through them, he saw Draco in his various activities throughout the day. There were many of Draco in a club dancing with different men, but mainly a man with a shaved head. A ball of jealousy rose in Harry's throat, and he tried swallowing against it, but it was stuck. It was choking him. He sat staring hatefully at the strange man for a few minutes.

Sensing his feelings, Matthew made him flip to the next picture. "It's just his American friend, Stuart. As far as I know, they're nothing else to each other."

The more pictures they looked through, the more hesitant Harry became. If Draco was alive, why had he not come home? He _had_ to have read the paper and saw that Harry was actually alive! Why was he seemingly in hiding? After all the trouble did Draco decide that he did not want to chance going through it again?

"What was it?" Harry did not realise he had spoken aloud until Matthew squeezed his knee.

"What was what?"

However, Harry did not get a chance at answering. Somebody was pounding on the door, yelling for Matthew. "Matt, you great sod, open up! I won't be stood up for dinner. I demand your company at your own leaving feast, _might_ I remind you!"

"Bloody hell," Matthew whispered, checking his watch.

It felt as though Harry's heart had stopped. That voice… that haughty, demanding voice…. "That's Draco," he stammered quietly. The pictures fell from his suddenly limp hand. "It's Draco," he repeated. It had not felt real until now, now that he could _hear_ Draco.

"I was supposed to meet him for dinner at six," Matthew said frantically, kneeling to the floor to pick up the photos.

"Pickleworms, open the door before I break it down!"

"Hold on, you bloody wanker!" Matthew yelled back, his face red from nervousness. He slid the pictures beneath the chair and grabbed Harry's wrists. "There's more I haven't told you yet," he whispered hurriedly. "_Stay_ here. I'll try to make him stay out. But I have a feeling he'll want to come in to wait until I'm ready. If he does come in, don't under _any_ circumstances act like you know him, Harry."

Harry scoffed. "Why would I do that? He's my husband!"

Matthew's face was hard and his grip tight on his wrists. "_And he doesn't know it_. Don't act like you know him. When he looks at you blankly, don't get that wounded puppy dog look on your face…. You're doing it now. _Stop it_. We're not bringing him into this until the time is right, and now is NOT the time, Harry, I mean it."

"But I'm his husband!" he exclaimed. "He'll know who I am! There's no way he could act as though he doesn't know me, Matt!"

Matthew turned back, his face worried and annoyed at the same time. "Unless you want to ruin everything, act like you don't know him and everything will be fine. Got it? You have _never met_ him!"

"Open the door!" Draco pounded.

Still, nothing made sense. If Draco came in, what was Harry supposed to do? He did not know if he could control himself. Draco was alive! They could be together again! Ayida would never have to grow up not knowing who her father was. Draco would be such a good father, Harry knew it. So what made Matthew think he could stand in their way of being happy? Draco deserved it after such a long time. _And so do I_, Harry thought, getting angrier by the minute at Matthew.

Harry stood as Matthew opened the door. There was a wall blocking the view, so Harry could not see what was happening or what Draco looked like today. Oh, he wanted so badly to just get a glimpse. Suddenly, he felt hatred towards Matthew, standing in the way of his husband. He wanted him back!

"About time," Harry heard Draco say from the door. "I might have grown a beard waiting for you." Harry smiled tremulously to himself. Draco rarely needed to shave, and would barely be able to grow a beard even with a hair growing potion.

"Can you even grow facial hair?" Matthew voiced his thoughts.

"Of course I can. I don't even have to think about it and it grows." Harry heard a scuffle and finally, somebody took a deep breath. "And I must say that you're being exceptionally rude tonight. Will you not let me in, you great brute? You owe me that much after standing me up."

"I didn't mean to," Matthew apologised. "But a friend from back home paid me a surprise visit. We forgot the time."

"From England?" Draco asked interestedly. "You don't want me to meet your friend, is that it? Were you shagging? That's why it took you so long to answer the door, isn't it? You _were_!" There was a smile in his voice. "And it wasn't Potter, was it?" Harry's heart skipped. He _knew_ about their relationship? "Afraid I might call your boyfriend and tell him that you've been unfaithful?"

"Fuck," Harry muttered, closing his eyes tight. "He's not my boyfriend."

"You can quit foaming at the mouth, Kalen, we weren't shagging."

Harry made a noise in the back of his throat, a noise which made Draco laugh. Kalen?

"Not shagging, eh? Your friend doesn't seem to think so."

"He was clearing his throat," Matthew lied. "He's getting over a cold."

"Oh, so he's a he, is he? Is he my type?"

"Probably, he's dark and handsome if you're in to that sort of thing."

"I'm not leaving until you let me in and meet this bloke."

Matthew began to protest, but Harry was taking a deep breath, readying himself. "Matt," he said, his voice cracking. He cleared it and tried flattening his hair. "Quit being such a twit. Let him in." Matthew would be furious, he knew, but could not bring himself to care. Inwardly, he grinned.

"Ah, a man with manners. I like him already."

It seemed Matthew relented, because Harry heard the door close and suddenly, Draco whisked into the room, stopping and turning as he spotted Harry from the corner of his eye. Harry immediately felt himself flush pink, his glasses sliding down his nose. He felt so inadequate next to Draco for the first time in his memory. It had always been accepted by Harry that Draco just had more class than he did, but now he wished he had had time to change from his old jeans and even older flannel. Harry's knees went weak as he looked at Draco, unable to believe that he was looking at a living, breathing, talking Draco. The blond was wearing a blue casual dress shirt with grey trousers and flip flops. His long hair was down, but cast neatly over his shoulders. Harry did not know if he liked the long hair, but at least it was not as long as Lucius' was. It came to rest just below his shoulders.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, Harry waiting expectantly for a trace of recognition, before a brilliant smile lit Draco's face. The smile held nothing Harry wanted to see and the expectation slowly filtered from his face into a small frown. Still, the smile sent a twinge through his stomach and made his breath quicken. "I can see why Matthew did not want to open the door with such a captivating gentleman for company."

Harry blushed hard as Draco extended his hand. "Kalen Mortimer."

When Matthew nodded fiercely from behind Draco, Harry took his hand. "Harry Potter." Harry stared hard at his face, still waiting for something. It did not seem to be forthcoming.

"Potter?" he asked sounding pleasantly surprised. "I never dreamed it would be you in here. So you _were_ shagging then?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something but nothing but a small squeak came out. Matthew interrupted, and Harry hoped Draco had not heard it. "Kalen, if you would give Harry and me a half hour, I can meet you for dinner then."

"And you think I should trust you again to be prompt?"

"I need to speak to Harry about an important matter. I will be there."

Draco looked back and forth between them. "With Potter I hope?"

"If he wishes it so," Matthew shrugged.

Draco turned to Harry hopefully. "Do you wish it, Potter?" he mocked Matthew.

Haltingly, Harry nodded, smiling forcefully.

"Lovely! I'll wait for you both in the lobby downstairs."

Draco swept from the room just as quickly as he had come, leaving Harry free to collapse back into the chair. He curled into a ball, deliberately hiding his face from Matthew as he approached.

"I wanted you to know before you saw him, Harry. His memory has been altered. The Ministry is trying to find solid proof to get Narcissa in Azkaban for it, but it's been difficult."

"Exactly how bad is it?" Harry whispered against his arms.

There was a pause. "Basically… Draco's memory has been exorcised of you. He has absolutely no remembrance of ever meeting you. That's the sole reason he hasn't come back to find you. He didn't know, Harry. He still doesn't, but with your help he could find his way back. I've spoken to him about it and there's no doubt in my mind with the sheer desperation he has to remember, that he _will_ remember someday."

With no little embarrassment, Harry felt his entire body visibly shaking. There was no help for it. Magic, fuelled by fear, anger, hurt, and so many other things had begun to boil deep within his gut. The magic was tangible as it worked through his tissues, veins, and out from his very pores. Suddenly, the mirror across the room exploded in thousands of tiny shards. Harry heard Matthew swear and collapse to the floor in surprise.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harry screamed, still hiding his face. He flew from the chair with a strangled yell. Matthew was standing up again, realising that the mirror had not had enough force to fly across the room at him, and was studying Harry warily as he paced the room in a furious cloud. The thoughts racing in Harry's head were not clear and even as he paced to a spot near Matthew and placed his hands on the wall, hanging his head, he was not sure what he was thinking.

"I'll kill her," he breathed viciously, and then brought his hand back and punched the wall. "_Bitch_!"

From behind Matthew took hold of his arms and turned him. "Let go," Harry grit out, but Matthew held tight to him in a hug. Harry did not fight, but stood ridged in the taller man's arms. "I'll kill her," he said again, "I killed her husband, and I'll kill her too."

Matthew tensed, and Harry vaguely thought of the fact that he had not told Matthew of what he had done to Lucius Malfoy. But Matthew did not ask.

"You'll wait for the Ministry to apprehend her and then you'll testify at her trial, if they give her one. Then she'll go to Azkaban where she belongs. And you… you, Harry will get to be with Draco. He'll remember what you are to each other, and you'll make _sure_ that nothing separates you again."

Slowly, the anger began dissipating with every word spoken. Now leaning limply against Matthew, Harry returned the hug. "If only it were that simple." As quickly as he had leaned into the hug, he pulled out and paced at the end of the bed. "Do you know what it's like?" he asked quietly. "The last time I saw him, he was lying on a cold slab of plastic. It was him, Matthew. We made sure of it. It was him and he was alive. The whole time. I shouldn't have left him there."

"You couldn't have known, Harry."

"How did she do it then? He was dead! I still almost think that he was a mirage just now, Matt. What do you think that's like, Matt, to see somebody you've believed dead for so long?"

Matthew shook his head. "I don't know. But, Harry, you've never really believed he was dead. You made sure to tell me that when we first met."

Harry smiled sadly. "Denial is powerful, isn't it? I didn't want to see what everybody else saw. I didn't think I could live with it. Besides, nothing ever added up, _nothing_. His autopsy reports never were released to me when I asked, and I never believed he could commit suicide, and the timing… it was too perfect. That's why I didn't let it go for so long. I needed to hang onto something." He let out a bitter breath of air. "Apparently I should have hung on a bit longer."

Matthew did not say anything for a long time, apparently unsure he could say anything. In his silence, Harry slumped to the bed in defeat. "I just don't understand how she could do it," Harry whispered. "How could she keep a little girl from her father – her own granddaughter? Ayida didn't do anything to deserve this."

"Because of how you have raised her, Harry, she knows who he is. She knows his face." Suddenly, Matthew chuckled and came to sit beside him. "I don't think I told you, but a few months ago I was with her in the living room when you were upstairs. She looked at a picture of Draco and said, 'That's my other daddy, Matthew. He's gone.' Then I told her that yes, he was gone, but he sure did miss her." Harry sniffed. "Her eyes got really wide and she said, 'I love him.' So, I told her that when I talked to him next time, I would tell him that she loved him a lot. Only at the time I never thought I would get to talk to Draco."

Harry sighed. "She's so young still. When she grows up, she'll probably have little to no memory of Draco not being around. But Draco… he'll remember every day that he missed so much. I just know he'll be devastated when I tell him about Ayida." He paused, his voice cracking when he spoke again. "I… I just want him to know me. I don't want to have to explain things he should know."

Smiling slightly, Matthew clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "But you'll do what you have to get what you love back. We'll start with dinner."

As Matthew began backing away, sudden inspiration hit. "It's you," Harry whispered. "You found him."

"The Ministry found him, not me."

"But they only looked because of what you did."

"Hermione was pushing me to do it. I never would have spoken to Narcissa if not for her."

"Maybe so, but I'm thanking _you_ right now. Really, Matt, you could have let things lie. I know how you feel about me even if you've never said it." Harry glanced down briefly but forced himself to look Matthew in the eye. "It's taken me a while to figure it out, but I can see it now when you look at me. Finding Draco was one of the most selfless things anybody has ever done for me."

Matthew shook his head. "It was completely selfish on my part, Harry. Stop giving me so much credit."

Harry shrugged. "It could have been selfish in a way. But it wasn't when all is said and done. And… it might not be what you've hoped for, but I do love you in my own way."

Matthew was looking steadily at the floor, his jaw clenching reflexively. "I never wanted to say it."

"Then don't. I'm not asking you to."

"But maybe it will help… in some way – for closure."

"What do you want?"

Matthew stepped forward again and pulled Harry to his feet. "I want to say that… I love you. I love everything about you from your hair to your webbed toes –"

"I don't have webbed toes!" Harry exclaimed.

Matthew grinned. "Your second and third toe is webbed on both your feet. It's not noticeable until you look closely."

"You've been looking closely?" Harry's nose scrunched up.

"I like feet." Matthew wrapped his arms about Harry's waist. Unhesitant, Harry wrapped his right arm around Matthew's neck and his left around his torso, unable to bring it up further. Matthew looked down at it with a smile. "I love your special hugs, too. I know you hate not having full use of your arm, but I love watching you get through obstacles with it. I liked to kiss your arm when we made love. I used to think your arm would be better when we were done, but it was always a silly thought." Harry smiled.

"I noticed you often paid extra attention to it."

Matthew slowly nodded, his face turning sober. "I've just always wanted to take all your pain away, so… here I am in Puerto Rico handing you over to Draco."

"Matt," Harry whispered, pulling his head to his. Matthew was willing as their lips met. He grasped the back of Harry's head as Harry coaxed his mouth open.

"Love you," he murmured, pulling away and placing short kisses on Harry's mouth and cheeks. Harry stilled his head and kissed him again, kissing him slowly and with care. Harry remembered the anger he had felt at Matthew minutes before when he blocked Draco's entrance, but now all he felt was gratitude. He almost wished he could feel more for Matthew's sake, but there had never been anything here except a deep physical attraction and an even deeper need to not feel so alone.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, pulling away.

"We should go before we're late," Matthew blinked tightly.

"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked, the awkwardness in the room mounting. He straightened his clothes nervously.

Matthew licked his lips. "Just a restaurant down the street that Draco is rather fond of. I've been there once with him. It's good."

Shifting uncomfortably under Matthew's eyes, Harry began turning for the door. "Well, then…." He reached for the door handle.

"Wait, Harry. You should change."

Looking down, it looked as though there was nothing wrong with his attire. Frowning, he turned back to see Matthew digging through his bag, which looked neat as if he had just packed it. "I have something that would look good on you."

"I don't see anything wrong with what I'm wearing," Harry sulked, crossing his arms across his chest. Of course, he felt more self-conscious than before now that Matthew mentioned how horrendous he looked, but was not ready to admit that he looked a fool.

"Under normal circumstances, there's absolutely nothing wrong. But I guess that you want to impress Draco. Therefore, an old flannel and old, baggy jeans won't do the trick."

"I don't want to wear one of those silly shirts you wear when you go out." Matthew whipped out a smooth green t-shirt with a grin. "It isn't silly and once I've shrunk it to fit you, you'll look gorgeous. Besides, your shirt is too hot for Puerto Rico. You'll sweat, believe me."

"Fine! But I'm not changing my trousers." Harry hurriedly unbuttoned his flannel and let it fall to the floor. He watched Matthew's eyes quickly revert back to his bag as he caught sight of Harry's chest. Blushing slightly, Harry pulled the shirt on. It was much too big for him as Matthew was so much taller and built than he.

"Let me," Matthew murmured, taking out his wand and shrinking the fabric to fit in all the right places. The shirt was snug now, hugging his chest and biceps, the hem stopping just below the waistline of the jeans. Harry shifted, tugging at the end. "Stop it," Matthew chastised. "You'll stretch it out again. Please let me shrink your jeans a little, Harry. They just don't go with that shirt."

"No!" Harry moved backward. "I told you just the shirt!"

"But you look silly now with that shirt on!"

"Then I'll put my flannel back on," Harry stuck his nose up stubbornly.

"You will do no such thing! Do you want Draco to fancy you or not?"

Very subtly, Harry's shoulders slumped. "I want much more than that from him," he said quietly.

Silence fell between them and for long moments, neither moved. Finally, Matthew checked his watch. "We'll be late if we carry on. Harry, I know you want more than that, but for now, you'll just have to settle for him being mildly attracted to you. So, just let me shrink your jeans."

"Fine. I don't see why it matters," he sulked as Matthew set to work, his wand waving quickly about his legs. "He liked me fine before."

There was nothing more to say as they set out for the lobby. Matthew walked paces behind Harry the entire way, unsettling his already frazzled nerves. The lift felt as though it was impossibly slow, and both men nearly collapsed out of it for the tension between them was so high. Harry could feel Matthew's eyes constantly on him, and could only imagine what he must be thinking. Harry, though he felt miserable at the thought that he had made Matthew fall in love with him, just wished Matthew would leave and move on with his life. It was intolerably selfish, especially after Harry had been very willing to move on with another man, even when he had never been sure of Draco's death. It was his own fault, and he would have to deal with Matthew's feelings. Thoughtlessly, he still wished Matthew had not fallen for him.

In the lobby, Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry craned his neck looking everywhere, all the while very aware that his shirt was riding up his side. Matthew was too busy searching for Draco to notice. "I'll never forgive you for these clothes," Harry hissed, coming up behind the taller man. "They're agonizing. The shirt keeps riding up my side and my jeans are hugging me too tight, especially on my arse."

"You're just not used to them yet," Matthew said back distractedly walking to the exit. "That's what makes them look so good on you. Believe me, you look brilliant. Ah, there he is."

Harry looked to where Matthew's eyesight was leading and saw Draco just outside the doors, leaning casually against a wall. The wind had picked up in the day and it blew wisps of Draco's hair in his face. He blew it impatiently from his face, but it blew back just as soon. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tucked the strands behind his ear. Harry felt a fire of want ignite within his chest at the sight of the blond.

"I wish he'd get his hair back to the way it was," Harry said wistfully as they approached the doors. "It's too dark now… and long."

Draco looked up and through the glass then, his face lighting as he saw them. Harry quickly looked away as they caught eyes, blushing. "Four minutes late," Draco declared upon their exit of the building. He looked Harry up and down. "I'll speculate that the change in wardrobe had something do with it. My goodness, you should acquire more confidence, Potter. You're really quite handsome. Quit slouching," he gently hit Harry's shoulder. Harry swallowed nervously and did as he was told, not able to bring his face to meet the blonde's. "I'm making you nervous," Draco observed with a smile. "You're practically sweating."

"He's always like this when he's attracted to somebody," Matthew offered. "You should have seen him when we first met."

Harry looked to the ground, his face flaming with embarrassment, though he could offer no good explanation for it. It was true, after all. "Matthew," he hissed. He had done something like this when he had first met Matthew, but this was different. His feelings for Draco were on an entirely different level. Nonetheless, it was still painfully embarrassing for Draco to know. Draco's infuriating smirk made the situation even more painful. Harry inwardly cringed at what the blond might be cooking up to say in response. However, Harry was to be disappointed in a witty retort.

"Come, Potter," Draco grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. "Let's go to dinner. I'm simply ravenous, aren't you?"

Shyly, Harry looked at him from the corner of his eye as Draco began to lead him along the sidewalk, Matthew trailing. "I could eat."

Draco was looking sideways at him, a soft smile on his face. "Wonderful," he said, still studying Harry carefully. Harry bit his lip nervously, glancing between the ground and Draco. Draco winked at him before he turned back to look at Matthew. "Hurry along up here, Pickleworms. There's no need to lag behind, now is there?"

Matthew hastened his step to walk alongside Draco, smiling forcefully as he did so. Harry looked up to see Draco make a meaningful gesture for Matthew to take his hand, but Matthew shook his head, whispering, "It's okay, Draco." Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief when Draco just shrugged and continued holding his hand. The situation was already so unbelievable, so the hand he held was a soft and solid anchor to reality. This was real. Draco was alive and real, holding his hand.

"This is it," Draco announced as he steered them into a quaint building. The inside was small and private; candles lit the tables while a soft, magical light glowed around the edges of the ceiling. The walls were dark red, decorated with what appeared to be Puerto Rican magical artefacts and documents. Though it looked as though they were to wait to be seated, Draco went straight to a table in a back corner. It was a half circle, the seats wrapped around the circular portion. Draco motioned for Harry to sit, and reluctantly, Harry withdrew his hand, furtively smoothing his thumb along Draco's. Scooting in onto the plush leather seat, Draco sat on one side and Matthew on the other. Menus appeared on the table in front of them quickly followed by small glasses, which were filled with water.

"Don't bother with the menus," Draco commanded, stacking them together and setting them in the middle of the table. They disappeared. "I know what's good here. I'll order for you…. That is if you trust me, Potter." He waggled his eyebrows.

Harry smiled. "A friend of Matthew's is a friend of mine. I trust you."

"Great, you'll love what I pick out. Anyway…" he set his small glass of water in the middle of the table, murmuring, "Traiga detrás."

Harry blinked, trying not to show his surprise that Draco knew Spanish. "Is this your first trip to San Juan, Potter?"

"First time, yes," he nodded, sipping from his own water.

"It's beautiful here. I love it. I assume that you're leaving again with Matthew tonight?"

Harry blinked again, looking to Matthew in slight surprise. He had not realised that Matthew was going home _tonight_. Their noticeable pause in conversation was saved by the arrival of the waiter asking what they wanted in Spanish. Draco began conversing with him fluently. Harry marvelled at his ability for a moment before turning back to Matthew. "You're leaving _tonight_?" he whispered fiercely.

"The Ministry is making me," Matthew leaned in. "I didn't want to, but I revealed that I knew who Kalen really is. I'm off the case. I'm leaving directly after I leave here."

"What am I going to tell hi –"

"¿Qué usted tiene gusto de beber, señor?"

Blinking, Harry looked up at the waiter. "I'm sorry?"

"What do you want to drink?" Draco translated.

"Scotch on the rocks," Matthew answered for him quickly.

Draco turned back to the waiter. "I'll take care of it," Matthew whispered and sat straight again.

"What were we talking about?" Draco asked as the waiter hurried away. "Oh, yes, you're leaving tonight with Matthew?"

"Actually, he'll be staying for a while."

"Really?" Draco asked with interest. "I would have thought since you haven't seen each other in so long…."

"Well," Matthew bit his lip. "I'm fairly certain that we'll live. Besides, we're not even together anymore. We broke up ages ago."

Draco looked surprised. "Sincerely? Well… that's quite a surprise to me," the blond said, looking between them. "I remember reading an article about you, Matt a while ago that said you hoped to settle down with Harry when you were done with Quidditch."

"Yes…" Matthew said embarrassed. "That was me being unrealistic. I've always managed to fool myself when it comes to him."

Harry became increasingly uncomfortable with the line of conversation. He shifted in his seat, and was grateful when their drinks appeared. Grabbing wildly for the scotch, he gulped down a large mouthful.

Draco looked to him curiously and then back to Matthew. "I don't mean to pry, but how?"

"I just knew that Harry would never be able to love me. He's the kind to give his heart out once and never do it again, no matter if the one he gave it to was long gone."

Draco looked to Harry. "I'm sorry, Potter. We're making you uncomfortable."

Closing his eyes hard, Harry took a breath. "Well, it's true. I wanted to love him, but I couldn't bring myself to. I know I'm meant to love somebody else, and that's all there is to say on the subject right now." He opened his eyes and took another drink.

The table fell unnaturally silent as the other two men followed suit. "Sorry to bring it up," Draco muttered. "I didn't want to bring about bad memories."

Harry sighed quietly. If only Draco knew that nothing he could say would make this situation worse. Nothing.

* * *

**Post-chapter notes:** As always, please leave a review to tell me what you think!

Once again, I'm going to extend the invitation to join my Yahoo!group. I seem to be getting more and morerequests lately to send emails when the chapter is up. Since I intend to keep my sanity, I started the Yahoo!group asa mailing list so that everybody who wants to know in advance of when the chapter will be up, will know all at once. No hard work for me. So. Please join if you're interested. The link is on my author page here. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Firstly, I would like to apologize for the wait. I will hopefully be much better now that it's summer, and I'm my target for getting chapter seven up is by the end of June. That would be perfect, no?

Secondly, I'd like to thank all the people who have reviewed. You're awesome! Keep the reviews coming! I'd also like to thank my beta, PadfootsBitch because I think she goes above and beyond.

Lastly, I have a feeling that many of you will be pissed about the beginning of this chapter. Well... I say get over it. You know who's going to end up with who. I'm not into sad endings, folks. Besides, Draco's not going to stay virginal for four years when he has no idea about Harry. Also, I think I should point out for the American folk in the group of readers that the definition of **boffin **is a British term for a nerd, usually a male who has no fashion sense and highly intelligent. I just thought it would be cute where it's placed. So. There you are. I will babble no longer.

* * *

**  
Lacuna  
**_Chapter Six  
:.:.:.:.:_

When dinner was polished off and the drinks emptied, all three men leaned back in their seats, happily satisfied. For Harry, it was the fourth meal of the day and his eyes were only too happy to close. After all, it was very early morning in England.

"Delicious, didn't I tell you?" Draco smirked lazily across the table at Harry.

"Absolutely," he agreed yawning widely.

It had indeed been a superb meal, but Draco always did have excellent taste, so it was not a surprise to Harry. However, the highlight of the meal had not had anything to do with the food. It had been the simple joy of sitting next to Draco again even as he ate his evening meal. To watch the blonde's small quirks and to fall into a comfortable conversation and even more comfortable action with each other – it was more than Harry could ask for this evening… or anytime really.

At intervals, Harry would forget himself, and would reach over to touch Draco's wrist as he might once have done. When Harry casually reached over to taste Draco's food without permission, Draco had put down his fork. Harry slowed in his chewing, realising what he had done. "Sorry," he apologised, turning pink. Draco had raised an eyebrow, a curious smirk lifting his mouth.

"I did wonder if perhaps you would like my meal better than the one I ordered for you."

Harry blushed and Draco had picked up his fork and continued eating, though much to Harry's embarrassment, kept looking up and winking at Harry, or just making faces.

Presently, Harry pushed his back firmly against the seat, stretching quietly, reminiscing on the dinner. "I'm going to use the loo," Matthew announced, standing. "Then I'll have to leave to catch my portkey."

Harry glanced up at him, but his eyes were immediately drawn back to Draco. He hardly noticed that Draco was talking. He could hear his silky voice and relished in the sound, but did not recognise the words. What Harry did pay attention to was the way Draco's mouth moved around his words, and how very pink they looked after eating. He noticed the way his eyes were slightly glassy from a little too much alcohol, but so very grey, and so _familiar_. Harry noticed the way his blond eyelashes were still so long that when Draco blinked, they looked as though they brushed his cheeks. Harry smiled faintly. Ayida had inherited Draco's eyelashes.

Suddenly, everything hurt again. It was the little things that he had forgotten in the past four years. He had forgotten how Draco smelled, and how he wiggled his fingers as if he were playing a miniature piano when he was waiting or thinking, and the slight swagger in his walk, and the way his eyes softened when he was amused, the inflection in his voice when he smirked…. He had forgotten so much about Draco – too much. Harry could not even begin to fathom how Draco would feel when he found out he had forgotten Harry. If it would make Draco feel as Harry felt at this very moment – as if he wanted to die – then he almost wished for Draco never to find out. Yet… he did want it, because it was how things were supposed to be. They were supposed to be together.

Harry was brought back to the present by a gentle pressure on his ankle. He blinked, realising that Draco had caught him staring and was pressing his toe against him. "You're staring," Draco said quietly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sorry. I… didn't realise I was." He yawned loud and sudden, and then ducked his head sheepishly. "I suppose I'm tired… still on England time and all that."

Draco shook his head, his toe mimicking the movement on Harry's ankle. "It'll be an early night for you, then?"

"Probably."

Draco looked through his lashes at him. "It's too bad. I help run a club in the District, and I thought you would join me there. We could dance; have a few more drinks…."

"Do you accept rain checks?" Harry asked regretfully as he spotted Matthew emerging from the bathroom. "I should probably get settled in, and I think I should see Matt off."

"A rain check? Definitely." Draco glanced back, and spotting Matthew, leaned forward, surreptitiously placing his hand on Harry's knee. "I hope you don't find me improper for asking you to the club. Not that it would be a date or anything, just a – well, a get to know you thing. I would hate for this to be the last time I see you."

Harry's heart and stomach began to flip happily inside. "I would hate that too, actually. So, should we meet again tomorrow night?"

Draco's hand and toe retreated from Harry as Matthew came upon them. "That would be a brilliant idea, Harry." He stood. Harry kept an eye on Draco as he bid farewell to Matthew, and slid from the bench. He could not help the flicker south his eyes took, or the breath he expelled at the sight of Draco's trousers hugging his bottom so nicely. He raked his eyes down Draco's thighs, licking his lips at the thought of them wrapped around his waist. They looked so much stronger than before. _Had he been working out?_ Harry thought faintly. He noticed for the first time that night that Draco's body was decidedly more built than ever. Again, his eyes retreated to Draco's arse. It was rounder. Harry bit his lip, unable to stop himself from imagining Draco sliding his trousers down and bending over a table for Harry. Just for Harry.

"I'll write as soon as I have something of substance to write." Matthew's voice brought Harry from his reverie. With no little embarrassment, he noticed he had got himself into a predicament and awkwardly stood, trying to adjust himself without anybody noticing. He caught eyes with Matthew, who quickly scanned his face and bit off a grin. Harry glanced away. Draco glanced back at Harry, a shifty look on his face.

"Thanks. Now's not the time for details, though. We'll talk more later." The pair shook hands and grinned at each other.

"I'm heading out for fresh air," Matthew announced. "Take your time, Harry. I need to enjoy my last minutes in good weather." He winked at Harry and then went to the exit.

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Draco turned to him. "It looks as though it has fallen to me to escort you outdoors, Harry," Draco said smoothly. Harry hid the shiver it sent through his body. He had almost forgotten how Draco's voice could be like velvet rubbed the right way when he wanted it to be, and he _had_ forgotten how turned on it had made him.

"It looks that way," Harry flushed red.

Draco studied his face in an understated sort of glee, his eyes shining. The blond stepped towards him, his hand easily sliding into Harry's. "You are the most interesting person I have ever met."

"I highly doubt that," Harry shifted awkwardly.

"You are," Draco said sincerely, squeezing his hand gently. "You're just… you're comfortable."

"What do you mean?"

Draco studied his face some more and then shook his head, an honest, bewildered grin lifting the corners of his mouth. "You know… I have no idea." He shrugged. "I don't know why I said that. Does 'comfortable' constitute as interesting?"

"I don't know. You're the one who said it."

Draco stared at his face for a long while, his eyes roaming over every inch. Harry did his best not to squirm as gentle tingles raced down his neck and arms. "Perhaps in a way it's interesting," Draco conceded finally. "Answer me why your face is familiar to me."

For a moment, Harry felt at a loss. Finally, he shrugged and smiled helplessly. "You've probably seen my picture in the paper."

Draco contemplated him, a wide grin breaking out. "Wow. Not only are you conceited, you're also a dirty, rotten liar, Mr. Potter. _But_ I'll forgive you this time, because it is probably the truth. You are rather famous, aren't you?"

"First of all, I'm not conceited. Second, you say I lied, but you know I'm telling the truth. How does that make sense?"

"I don't believe you're not. You'll have to prove it, of course. You see, you have this air of giving off that you're a dirty liar. You're sweating a little bit, and you're rather jumpy, aren't you? Next time you lie," Draco shook his head tragically. "You won't be spared my rather nasty temper. I don't like people who lie."

"Well, then you must not like yourself very much, _Kalen_," Harry said before he realised what he was saying. "I know I don't like you very much right now, you bloody hypocrite." He hurried to add jokingly and then clamped his lips together, feeling his face going red. Draco leaned back to appraise him.

"Well, now, who's got a mouth on him? Yes, I do lie, but only for the greater good," he replied imperiously.

Draco glanced back to the door. "I suppose I should get you back to your boyfriend."

"Matt is not my boyfriend," Harry said firmly. "I'm free to be with whoever I want." He gently rubbed Draco's fingers with his thumb. "That includes you."

Harry felt satisfied when Draco's cheeks turned pink. "You're such a liar," the blond said quietly. "Matt wouldn't give you up."

"It wasn't his choice whether we broke up or not. It was mine. And I say we've been broken up for a while."

"This is no way to begin a friendship, Potter. It's going to be difficult to keep all your little lies together."

"Well… then I'll make sure we don't get too much time to talk, now won't I?" After a few silent, awkward seconds, Harry blushed. Clearly, he had not thought _that_ through. "I… I didn't mean it like…." Draco had thrown his head back and was laughing.

"No! No, I don't mind!" Draco gasped. "If that's what we'll be doing together, then I'll get to spend less time in the shower wanking."

Harry blushed harder and looked to the floor as an image popped in his head of Draco in the shower, skin slicked with soap, head back, mouth open with tiny breaths escaping, his throat bared…. He had come upon it before numerous times. It was not difficult to conjure up such an image. "I think we should go," Harry cleared his throat.

"Okay. I… are you free tomorrow then?" Draco asked. "I can pick you up at the hotel at one and I'll give you a tour of the District."

Harry nodded. "Sounds perfect." He tugged at Draco's hand and they made their way to the exit. Matthew was waiting against the wall, staring peacefully up at the sky. "Thanks for dinner," Harry muttered, secretly wanting so much more than the hand squeeze Draco afforded him.

"Tomorrow," Draco answered with a wink before he turned in the opposite direction and walked away.

Harry stood motionless for a few moments, watching him retreat; and he wondered how it was possible to fall back in love with somebody he had already been in love with in the first place. "Tomorrow," Harry whispered. "The lies will stop tomorrow."

"Harry," Matthew called. "I need to go now."

Harry nodded, seeing Draco disappear around a corner down the street, and finally turned back to the other man. "He likes you," Matthew said as he approached. "He was eating up everything you said and did tonight, especially when you'd touch him."

The two men fell into step with each other. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. "He wants to see me again tomorrow. I thought I would have to 'bump' into him again sometime."

"You're lucky you're so likeable."

Harry could hear the grin in his voice, but knew when he glanced at Matthew that he was not feeling so jovial. He walked resolutely forward, his hands also stuffed in his pockets, his chin up, and shoulders tense. Harry decided not to further the topic. While Matthew supported Harry, he was obviously having his own problems coping. Harry wished he knew a way to make it better, but knew there was probably nothing – not anything Matthew would appreciate, at any rate.

"I'll switch my suite into your name," Matthew offered as they neared the hotel.

"That won't be necessary," a deep voice input from the dark of an alley. "Potter won't be staying."

Hackles raised, Harry turned, stepping in front of Matthew as if to protect him. However, as soon as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped from the shadows, he visibly relaxed. "What do you mean, I won't be staying?" he asked annoyed. "I can't just go home knowing what I know."

Kingsley shot an annoyed look to Matthew. "You weren't supposed to have found out quite yet, Potter."

"I had to tell him!" Matthew defended. "My plan in the first place was to tell him once I confirmed myself that it was Draco!"

Kingsley hushed him, looking down the street towards the restaurant, though they were well out of earshot of anybody else on the street and Draco was long gone. "We won't speak so candidly out in the street," he hissed. "Imogene has already retrieved your things, Pickleworms. You'll follow me to Headquarters."

Waving his wand and muttering a complex spell in Latin, Kingsley transported them to the Headquarters two streets away. Harry looked around interested. The room was a moderate size with plenty of windows overlooking the District and the Muggle world beyond. Two Aurors were conversing by a door which led to another room; one of the Aurors looked quite familiar to Harry. "Dean!" he exclaimed. Dean Thomas turned at the sound of his name and broke into a grin.

"Hallo, Harry! I just heard you were in the country."

"How long have you been here?" Harry questioned.

"About a week. Great news about Malfoy being alive though, right? Ron's just been itching to tell you."

"_Not_ a time for small talk, Thomas," Kingsley barked, going to a desk to search in some drawers. Dean backed away, shrugging his shoulders at Harry. "I'll make this quick, Potter. The portkey for Pickleworms will activate in ten minutes. You're going with him quietly."

Harry firmly stood his ground. "I am not leaving this country as long as Draco is in it! He's my husband, and who until a few hours ago, I believed to be dead! I've kept my silence thus far, but I won't anymore. He has a right to know who I am. In fact, I have half a mind to find him now and tell him everything."

"You do so, Potter, and I'll hold you in contempt. You will be directly impeding any success we might have in this investigation."

"Tell me, Kingsley, is this investigation on Narcissa or Draco?"

"Narcissa," Kingsley clenched his teeth.

"Then there is no reason not to tell Draco who I am and that we have a daughter waiting at home for us."

Kingsley closed his eyes in frustration. "Believe me, Harry, when I say that I would like nothing better than to tell you that it's okay to inform Draco of his past and to take him home. Believe me. That is what I want for you. However, Draco is like a new spell in progress. He looks good right now, but test him and you won't be able to guess what the results will be. We've found out with Matt's help that he doesn't trust his mother to a point. But his loyalty is to her. She's all he knows, all he can really trust. Try to tell him that he's been deceived by her all along, then there's no telling what he will do."

"I know Draco. He loves his mother, but he never would have put up with it. What if I told him and he believed me? He would help put Narcissa away; I know he would."

"But what if he _doesn't_ believe you? He'll run to Narcissa for answers. She will lie and then make him run. She has told him he is a criminal, Harry, and he believes it. When he disappears, so will she."

"I told him he's not a criminal, Kingsley," Matthew interjected. "He has trusted me. He would trust Harry."

Kingsley looked between them both, his eye twitching in the corner. "It's not going to happen. If they disappear, Narcissa will make damn sure nobody finds them ever again."

"That wouldn't happen! Draco would trust me!" Harry exclaimed.

Kingsley shook his head sadly. "You place too much credence in that Draco once loved you, Harry. You cannot feel what you cannot remember. He doesn't love you anymore. That is absolutely no guarantee that he'll place his trust in somebody he seemingly just met."

It felt as though somebody had dealt him a blow. Harry stepped back from Kingsley in shock. The words replayed in his mind. _He doesn't love you anymore. _It could not be true. Yes, Draco could not remember him, but that didn't mean….

"You bloody arse," Matthew hissed, coming to grasp Harry's elbow as if he were about to fall over. "You can't know that Draco doesn't love Harry anymore. _You_ didn't see the way he looked at Harry tonight. It's still there somewhere."

"I was not trying to hurt him," Kingsley sighed. "There is always that chance, and I was only trying to be realistic."

"Harry has had enough reality on his plate tonight to last him for the rest of the year!"

"Don't worry about it, Matt," Harry murmured, shrugging out of his hold. "I don't want anything sugar coated." Harry held his face tight and his eyes hard behind his glasses. "Kingsley, I just want you to know that you're absolutely mad if you think I'm going home tonight, tomorrow, or the next day if Draco still does not know the truth."

"Fine," the Auror relented. "But you will agree to our terms, and you will follow them better than your friend Matthew did."

"For the record, he had no choice but to tell me."

"Be that as it may, you are not to tell Malfoy anything. Keep quiet, help us find something more on Narcissa, and you stay. If we're lucky, we'll be able to arrest her sooner rather than later, and then you can take your husband home."

Harry smiled at the sound of the last part. Soon, he would take Draco home where he belonged. "Fine. I'll do anything to stay here with him."

"Good. If you have questions, I'll answer them in a minute. Pickleworms, your portkey is going to activate in a minute. Come with me." He stood from the chair and hurried to the room Dean and his friend had been conversing in front of. "Thomas, get a listening charm on Potter," Kingsley threw over his shoulder and then disappeared into the other room.

Harry quickly approached Matthew and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Matt," he whispered in his ear and then pulled back to look him in the eye. "Really, you'll never know…." Matthew shrugged lightly, daring not to look him in the eye. "Look at me." Only when Matthew obeyed did Harry lean up and kiss him gently.

"Good luck, Harry," Matthew pulled away, smiling softly.

"Pickleworms, fifteen seconds!" Harry smiled and waved feebly as Matthew winked at him and disappeared from sight. After a few short moments, Kingsley reappeared alone and frowning as he saw Dean had only just started to place a listening charm on Harry. Instead of saying anything to his worker, the Auror sat on the desk and watched as Dean worked over Harry.

"Any questions, Harry?"

"Yes, actually. What would it take to put Narcissa away? I mean, isn't there enough proof against her already?"

"You would think so, but the laws on memory alteration are complicated. There are the kinds used to protect the wizarding world from the Muggle, which is a vast topic in itself. Then on the other hand, there are personal laws, which is even more complicated than the first. In the past, before the laws were made, a person could ask a friend or family member to alter their memory in order to forget something traumatic, or anything for that matter. But, when the person later found out that their memory was altered – which wasn't common if the spell had been carried out well, but it did happen – they would accuse that person of taking it away without their consent."

"They would go to Azkaban," Harry assumed.

"Right. After more than a few cases, the Ministry drew up a law where a Ministry official had to be present. Papers upon papers have to be signed and filed to avoid lawsuits and wrongful imprisonment. There are only about a dozen filed cases in the past hundred years and none of them are Draco's."

"Well, that much is obvious."

"But that does not necessarily mean that his memory _was_ taken away wrongfully, Harry. _Your_ supposed death unhinged Draco in many ways. It could have been his own mind cleansing you from his memory to make him better. He could have pointed his wand at himself for all we know. But what does not add up is how Narcissa fits in. Why doesn't she come forward if she had nothing to do with it? Why would she keep Draco from you and Ayida when she knows you're alive?"

"So, what exactly do you have on her?"

"We have Draco and his memory loss for one. We have the words he has told us through Matthew. However, those cannot be used in a trial without his consent. Although we hope that once he finds what his mother has done to him, he will have no qualms in releasing them.

"We also have recorded meetings of Narcissa with Draco in the past four years. Now we're attempting to get a trail. I have somebody who is somewhat of an expert on Dark magic, and has some questionable friends. It'll help because whatever method was used on Draco was not a normal 'obliviate.' It was too exact. To all appearances, you're completely erased from his memory. 'Obliviate' is much too broad for that."

"What is your contact doing to get a trail then? Is there anything I could help with? I have had contact with her, though she never really speaks with me."

"No, the contact is going to her friends and tracking all purchases – Light and Dark – made by Narcissa around the time Draco disappeared. If we get the ingredients for the right potion, and with all the recorded conversations, all the other concrete evidence we've compiled, our case will be solid."

Harry sat in a chair and contemplated all that he had been told. It all made sense to not tell Draco anything, but it would be so difficult. How long would he have to keep up this façade of a perfect stranger?

"Any other questions, Harry?"

"What do you need me to do while I'm here?"

Kingsley smiled tiredly. "Just do what you feel needs to be done, except for telling him who you are to him. If you can steer a conversation in the right direction, then do it. Otherwise, all I want you to worry about is getting to know your husband again, and him you."

It was the first time that night that Harry had not felt extremely angry with the Auror. He smiled. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Kingsley stood. "I'll send somebody ahead to check you into Matthew's suite. Do you have clothes?"

"I didn't pack anything," Harry shook his head sheepishly. "I didn't think I would be staying."

"It's no problem. Your things will be waiting for you when you wake." Kingsley clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're on your own from here on out… for the most part," he winked. "Goodnight."

Harry waved at Dean from across the room and left without speaking to him. He was much too tired for more conversation, and that comfortable bed he had spotted in Matthew's room earlier sounded much too tempting. Finally, it was time to put his mind to rest for the day.

The morning rose bright and clear. The temperature was already in the 60's when Draco decided it was time to open his eyes. He stretched long and cat-like, yawning loud. "Shut your trap, Kalen. You've already kept me up all night with your snoring." With a wide grin, Draco rolled over so that he was half on top of his companion.

"Oh, but Jude," he purred into his neck. "It's a beautiful morning." He thread his slim fingers into Jude's thick, brown hair. Jude was brought into Draco's life via their mutual friend, Stuart. They had both come from the states a few years ago to enjoy life in the sun. However, Jude had moved back to New York a year ago under an incredible job offer from some Muggle business tycoon. Draco could never remember the guy's name. Jude and Draco had hit it off months ago when they had met and they now enjoyed a semi-serious… 'relationship.' It was semi-serious in that Draco had not shagged anybody else since they had met.

After dinner the previous night, Draco had gone straight to his club, surprised, but not unpleasantly so to see Jude leaning casually against the club, smoking a cigarette. He had been on business in Europe for a month and had contacted neither Draco nor Stuart. Draco had stopped for a moment to admire him. He was not necessarily great looking. If they were to pass each other on the street as strangers, Draco never would have glanced back. His eyes were a rather plain blue colour and his nose a bit too wide. But his hair was rich with colour and shiny, and his lips were full and always waiting to be kissed. Draco loved kissing Jude, not just because of how his lips felt, but how he knew just where to put his hands and hold him close.

"The place looks like shit," Jude flicked away his cigarette. "And it smells worse."

Draco shook his head with a grin. "You're always full of compliments, you dickhead."

Jude spread his arms. "I live to serve."

Draco walked straight into his arms and kissed him hard. When they were breathless and pressing against each other, Draco suggested that they go back to his flat. He had been on edge all night since Harry had made it habit to keep touching him at every possible moment. So they did.

Presently, Jude groaned, pushing Draco's fingers from his hair. "Right… a beautiful morning to sleep. Get off me." A tapping at the glass of the window interrupted them and both men swore. When Draco looked, a local bird was sitting outside, waiting with a letter. "Bugger it all, it's my mum's bird," he murmured. For a moment, he lay motionless, his muscles tense before shrugging and kissing Jude again. Jude succumbed until the bird began squawking. He pulled all of his strength together and threw Draco off.

"Get the damn bird!" he growled and rolled over.

"Tetchy in the morning, aren't we?"

"Annoying _all_ the time, aren't we?" he retorted nastily.

Draco shrugged and climbed from bed, opening the window. A small note was attached to its leg and Draco knew exactly what it was. "You would think she would notify me before she gets here," he said grumpily. "Her and her stupid breakfast meetings and asking what I've been up to. You know, Jude, I have half a mind to just pack up and leave without telling her where I'm going. I'm 24 for Merlin's sake."

"Then do it," came the sleepy reply. "I'll find you no matter where you are and fuck you raw for leaving."

Draco grinned. For some reason, he loved Jude's crude conversational skills. "If a good shag is what you have in mind, maybe I will do it."

Jude muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'little bastard,' which only made Draco's grin wider as he opened the letter.

_Darling, _

_I have just arrived in town yesterday evening. Do get yourself out of bed and meet me at our usual time and place. I look forward to seeing you again. _

_With love,  
Mother _

"Usual?" Jude asked, rousing himself enough to look up at Draco.

"Yes, I should shower and dress now or I'll be late. I hate it when she surprises me. I can't go to the gym now."

"One day won't kill you," Jude climbed from bed still nude.

Draco sat on the bed again and lazily admired Jude's backside as he gathered his clothing. "You forget it's all about the routine. I won't feel like going tomorrow."

"You and I both know that isn't true." He pulled on his boxers, balling up his clothes against his chest. "I'm going to go to Stuart's and sleep more. I'll see you later today."

Draco nodded and crawled across the bed for a kiss. Jude nipped at Draco's lips and slid a sneaky finger between Draco's backside. He bit down on Draco's lip hard. "Mmm… still open. Make sure you're open and wet for me tonight." He wiggled his finger around, stopping only to press against a _most_ interesting place. Draco squirmed.

Jude pulled away. "By the way, I leave for New York tomorrow morning."

Blinking, Draco slipped off the bed in dismay. "What?"

"We'll talk later. You need to shower and meet your mom."

He Disapparated.

Draco did not mean to be a clingy, annoying… shag, but Jude normally stayed for at least a week. Sometimes he invited Draco to come stay with him for a week or two after, but there did not seem to be any forthcoming invitation.

Well, Draco reasoned, he's probably really busy with work. When Draco went to New York, he was usually alone from early morning to sometimes as late as ten at night. Jude rarely had a spare moment. Still confused, Draco made his way into the shower and within twenty minutes was ready to meet his mother.

As usual, Narcissa was waiting at their normal table, reading the _Daily Prophet_. "You're on time," she said surprised as he sat.

Draco immediately dug into the food already prepared in front of him. "I had somebody to push me into the shower."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Not that awful Jude Preston, I favour."

"You have never met him," Draco scooped strawberries onto his plate. It rankled to hear her speak of people in such an unfavourable manner when she had never met them. He fancied she would feel the same about Harry. He would be kidding himself to think that she would not. Harry was a Brit after all and the Boy-Who-Lived no less. It was all the more reason not to mention his chance meeting with Harry Potter.

"He is a Mudblood from the states. That is all I need to know."

No, she definitely could not know about Harry Potter, half-blood extraordinaire. Bleeding _sexy_ half-blood extraordinaire, Draco amended with a smirk. "I like him. And it's not as though I love him. We like to shag when he's in the country."

"That is quite enough information, Draco," Narcissa frowned. "Have you not found anybody more suited for you?"

"You mean a pureblood European wizard."

"Or witch."

"_Mother_, I have no inclination towards the female species, as beautiful as they and you are. You know that."

Narcissa sniffed. "As I was saying, have you found somebody?"

He was about to say that he had not, but then his thoughts returned to Harry. A delicious thrill of excitement coursed through him. Harry was from the correct part of the world… well, maybe not, but close enough. There was no doubt that he was wealthy. For defeating Voldemort had to have had its perks from the Ministry. He was charming, and so very handsome. Draco smiled thoughtfully. Yes, Harry was definitely handsome. He thought of the way Harry had blushed when he had received any of Draco's attentions, and how his vibrant green eyes had been clouded with some sort of lust when they had bid goodnight. Draco felt his groin stir at the thought.

"Draco?" Narcissa prompted after the silence had continued too long for her liking.

Draco had a story forming in his mind. But Harry was not a pureblood. If his memory served him, Harry's mother was a Muggle-born witch. Technically, one could say that Harry was a pureblood. It would not really be lying to say he was. A smile stretched his mouth. "Actually, I was introduced to somebody last night. I rather enjoyed his company. He's from Eastern Europe, Ukraine, I believe, and a pureblood."

"Excellent, Draco –"

"Kalen," he corrected, smiling harder when she glared. She so hated to be proved wrong.

"What is his name?"

Bollocks. He supposed he had not thought that far ahead. However, he did not let the smile waver. "You know, I don't even remember. You know how the names there can get confusing, at least for me they can be. Well, it's no matter. I am meeting him later today. I'll find out then."

"When you do find it out, give it to me and I will see if it is a suitable match."

Bollocks two times over. Draco frowned. His mother had too many contacts to get out of that one. She would spot his lie and demand to know why he had lied. "If you consort with men, you could at least have the decency to do so with somebody proper."

Anger boiled. "If I decide the Ukrainian is right for me, it won't be because of your influence," he fumed. "In the end, I will decide who I want to be with. After all, it's not your decision to make."

"Oh, Draco, I only do this because your past choices of men have been questionable."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "My past choices? Somehow, I get the feeling that we're speaking of more than just Jude. The last man I had a chance with, you did a fair job in sabotaging it. _He_ was respectable by your terms – European, pureblood, and filthy rich. You know something you're not telling me?"

Narcissa stared at him for a long time. "Who you've consorted with is better left in the past."

"So you do know something of what I've forgotten!" Draco leaned forward in his chair and bumped the table. His glass of orange juice spilled all over the paper. Narcissa impatiently waved her wand to clear it.

"Draco, all I know is that you had some horrible boyfriend in Hogwarts. I do not even remember his name."

"I don't believe you," Draco hissed. "You know something and you're deliberately keeping it from me."

"I would never do that to you."

"From where I'm sitting, it does not look so certain."

"Believe what you must, but I tell the truth."

Draco picked his napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table. "I have somebody to meet, somebody I am sure you would not want me to meet with. But I will let you fret over it by yourself. Have a nice day, mother."

The blond stood and walked briskly away. Pulling out his pocket watch, Draco was surprised to see that it was only eleven. There were still two hours to burn before he met Harry. Perhaps he would go workout. Maybe it would help to burn away his anger. But no, now that his mind was back on Harry, he could not get it off. There was something… something that drew Draco to him. He could not even begin to fathom what that could be, but whatever _it_ was, tingled beneath his skin and at the very edges of his mind. Draco could skirt it and say that it was pure attraction, but that was not it. It was true. As soon as he had laid eyes on Harry, Draco had been instantly on alert, his eyes hardly daring to move from the striking man before him. He was attracted, despite flannel and bedraggled jeans. Really, the flannel was not so bad. After all, Draco had one that was quite similar hanging in his closet.

What was even more appealing upon getting to know Harry was that he was almost painfully shy around him. Somehow it gave Draco a sick pleasure to induce that particular reaction from somebody, especially Harry.

Without realising it, Draco's feet had carried him to Harry's hotel and to the receptionist's desk, who told him the same room number as Matthew's. He still hardly gave thought to what he was doing until he was pounding on the door and found that nobody was answering. His heart was only just beginning to pound in agitation at the thought of Harry already having left when the door opened. A wave of relief washed over the blond, quickly followed by embarrassment as it seemed as though Harry had just woken up. Rather, Draco had woken him up. Harry had on nothing but boxers and a hasty bath robe which hung open. His hair was even messier than the previous night and his glasses were missing.

Harry blinked and squinted. "Oh. Er… Kalen!" His voice was scratchy with sleep still. Draco only managed to keep from smiling for the embarrassment he felt.

"Bugger, I woke you, didn't I?"

"I… yes, you did actually. But it's okay!" he hurried to say. "I never sleep this late and I don't want to get in the habit now. Please, come in."

Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes as Draco entered, and he tried very hard not to think on how cute the darker man looked freshly awake. Draco glanced back for a better look at Harry's chest, probably still warm and soft with sleep. He wondered what Harry's skin tasted like at that very moment. "I'm sorry I'm early," he forced himself onto a different thought. "I was right around here for breakfast and I thought I'd come see you. I didn't think…." He trailed off. Never mind that it had taken him nearly ten minutes to get here from the café.

"No, it's really okay," Harry assured as he closed the door. He smiled warmly at Draco as he crossed the room to the bedside table. "I had trouble falling asleep last night, and then I just tossed and turned and kept waking up…." He smiled ruefully at Draco. "I slept in a bit later than normal. The wake-up call could have been a bit more pleasant though," Harry glanced playfully at Draco through lowered lids, then slipped on his glasses.

Draco felt his stomach twist. "Sorry," he swallowed. Would Harry never stop making him feel as though he had just been spinning in circles? _Oh, this is ridiculous_, Draco scoffed at himself. _He's really not so attractive to set off your equilibrium, Malfoy_, he thought, quite annoyed with himself.

Harry chuckled. "If you want to stay, I'll just get washed up and dressed. Then we can do something."

"I'll just read the paper," he gestured to the local paper, which he had just seen magically appear beside the bed.

"Great, I'll be out in a minute." Harry collected his clothes from a large piece of luggage and after glancing back at Draco with a smile, disappeared into the bathroom. Draco's heart flipped.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, collapsing onto the bed. "Bloody effing _hell_, I fancy the boffin."

Irritated with himself, he leaned back on his hands, wondering if he should just make a run for it before it was too late. But the spot in which he put his hands was still warm. He turned in his place to examine the place in which Harry had laid. The pillow still had his head's print on it. Draco reached out and gently smoothed his hand over it. Glancing guiltily towards the bathroom, he picked the pillow up and stuffed it against his nose.

"I'm such a sick bastard," he threw the pillow back. Biting his lip, he stared at it for a few moments before picking it back up and smelling it again. It was a faint smell for Harry had only slept one night on it, but his scent was there. It was sweat, soap, and something else that must have been specifically Harry. It was such a distinct, _good_ scent, and what made Draco keep smelling the pillow was how familiar it was to him. He laid the pillow down after a few moments of contemplation and laid his head upon it. He toed off his shoes and curled onto the bed.

Draco lay there for some time, the side of his face lightly pressed into the fabric to let the scent of Harry gently wash over him. For the first time in a very long time, Draco felt truly relaxed… safe. He remembered that he had not felt safe since the first time his mother had told him he was a fugitive. When Matthew told him that he was not a criminal, he no longer felt safe with his own mother. He did not know who to trust any longer.

"The paper didn't hold your interest, then?"

Draco shot up from his position in a flash. He wondered how long he had actually been lying there, and hoped that he did not look too guilty. "I… I didn't pick it up," he found himself saying much to his dismay.

"Really?" Harry asked distractedly going through a bag of what Draco assumed were bathroom necessities. "What were you doing then?" Draco watched Harry's facial expressions in a subtle fascination. He watched as Harry pulled out a full bottle of cologne and wrinkled his nose, muttering, "What in the world?"

"I don't know," Draco shrugged. "Just relaxing."

Harry opened the bottle and smelled it. "Does this smell good?" he stuffed it under Draco's nose.

Sniffing, "yes, it smells like you."

"I don't wear cologne though."

"I know. I just think it smells like something you would wear."

"I should wear it then? Because I don't know why it's in my things, I don't own any." Harry paused, his brow wrinkling. "How do you know I don't wear cologne?"

Draco blushed. "I… smelt your pillow while you showered. And I don't know why I just admitted that. I'm a pervert."

Harry slowly took the cologne back, his eyes heavy on Draco's face. After a moment, he threw his head back and laughed. Draco shifted uncomfortably on the bed when it began to seem as though Harry would never stop. "You smell really good," the blond defended lamely. "I couldn't help it."

"No!" Harry gasped. "I just don't know why you would think that makes you a pervert. So you smelled my pillow. Who cares?" He turned back to face Draco, his eyes alight with mischief. "You do know the rules, don't you, Kalen?"

Cautiously, the blond shook his head.

Harry paced in front of him for a few moments and then went to his side, getting close enough for Draco to feel his breath on his ear. "You have to repay the favour, of course."

Draco shivered. "How would I do that?"

"Let me smell _you_."

"If you feel you have been wronged by me, then please don't hesitate," Draco could not look him in the eye. "It's only fair."

Harry's voice was a low purr in his ear. "I'm glad you see it my way." Harry gently took a lock of Draco's hair and put it under his nose. His other arm snaked around the blonde's waist and drew him near so that his hips were rising from the bed. Draco had to strain his leg muscles to help hold himself up. Then he wondered if he would ever be able to breathe again. Suddenly, Harry's mouth was at his ear again, but this time he did not speak any words he could understand. The sound came out in a series of low hisses. The shiver which rent his body went straight to his groin.

"You're a Parseltongue," Draco gasped, falling back to the bed.

Harry twitched an eyebrow up as he stepped away from the bed. "Does it bother you?"

"Why would it?" he breathed. "I'm a Slytherin. And it's… I…."

Once again, Harry brought his mouth to Draco's ear and hissed. Draco's body visibly shivered. "What did you say – both times?"

Harry's smirk was all games and his eyes devilish. "The first time, I said that you smell just as I thought you would."

"Nothing more?"

"What I said after that is for me to know," Harry smiled. "The second thing I said was that you are turned on by me speaking Parseltongue." "You can't know that," Draco whispered.

"You seem the type," Harry retorted, falling to the bed, his arm easily wrapping around Draco's waist.

The two men stared each other down for a few moments, Draco almost quivering under the stare. "You don't know my type," he murmured. But the way in which Harry stared at him, made Draco think Harry knew a lot more than he let on. The silence droned on again with Draco oddly content with Harry's arm about his waist.

Something was happening to him. He was being drugged. He was being bewitched. _Why_ did he want to know this man? Why did he not care that Harry was doing something? And why… _why_ did Harry stare at him so – like he knew everything there was to know about Draco and more? More importantly, why didn't Draco _care_? He should be frightened or wary, maybe both. He should push Harry away and leave. The thing was… was that he did not want to. For the life of him, he just did not want to pull away.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Draco finally asked, but felt foolish for doing so. Harry smirked at him.

"Do you want me to?"

"Would I regret it?"

Harry tucked Draco's hair behind his ear. "I would hope not," he said, concentrating where his fingers touched Draco's hair.

"I don't know what I want."

"I do."

Draco blinked. "What do you want?"

Harry shook his head to break from some sort of trance, and met Draco's eyes. "Now's not the time for too much truth, Kalen. We only just met, didn't we?"

Inwardly, Draco flinched again at the name. "As long as you don't lie to me."

"I would never." Slowly, Harry pulled away and went to look out the balcony doors. "Do you want to get out of here now? It's looks beautiful outside."

Draco was very glad for the change in conversation. "I wouldn't mind. Though I have to admit that I have nothing planned for the day. I was going to think of some ideas last night, but a friend of mine surprised me by showing up."

"And he kept you quite busy, I take it."

Draco could not see Harry's face, but he could hear the frown.

"It's no matter," Harry shrugged and turned with a grin. "We'll be spontaneous about our day." He went to slip on some sandals that sat by the end of the bed. "Let's go then."

"I have to lead the way," Draco called when Harry began walking away. "I'm the tour guide."

Only when Harry opened the door did he look back. "You seem to be much more than a simple tour guide, Kalen." He seemed to contemplate Draco. "Do you want to know a part of what I said after I smelled you?"

Draco nodded.

Harry smiled gently, his head cocking to the side. "I said, 'perfect. You smell perfect to me.'"

Then, something changed in his smile, but Draco did not understand what it was, nor did he give it too much thought as he was busy attempting to still his thumping heart. "Thank you," he finally said after a few moments. "And I think I was correct about you. You are probably the most fascinating man I have ever met."

"If only you knew."

Then Draco had to hurry from the room because Harry had disappeared around the corner.

Early in their day, Draco decided to get out of the Wizarding District and stay out until he was away from Harry. It was not as though there were not things to show in the District. It was more the matter of Narcissa. If she saw her son with Harry Potter, it would never come to anything good. Harry was English, after all.

Draco had once understood why Narcissa did not want him around anyone from home. But now… he had consorted with no less than two British men in the past two weeks. Draco had never changed his appearance _that_ much. Anybody who followed the news would know who he is. Harry and Matthew had not reacted harshly to him. Matthew had even found it ridiculous that he thought he was a criminal. He had said that he wasn't.

It was still difficult to believe though. If he was not a criminal, why would Narcissa tell him otherwise? Perhaps it was Matthew who was not to be trusted. Perhaps even Harry was not to be trusted. Maybe Narcissa really was his only true friend. Deep down, Draco knew that he really should not be consorting with Harry, but it was difficult to get away. He did not want to leave Harry. He enjoyed getting to know the other man. Harry made him feel safe, and close to home, and dare he say cared for? Draco truly had no inclination to leave Harry's side. Perhaps it would be easier tomorrow to just stay away, but he doubted it. The blond liked the way Harry made him feel.

Even as the day carried on, Draco's hopes rose that Harry had no idea about the crime he may have committed. For one, he had never acted strange, and for another Draco had solid proof of Harry's lack of interest in the news, Muggle or wizard.

Draco's first clue had been when they had walked by a newspaper stand, and the front page of one such paper screamed the latest from the war in Iraq. Harry had glanced at it. "That war is still going on?"

Even Draco kept up with the Muggle war in the east. After all, Puerto Rico was a part of the United States, and anything that involved Muggles in the area that was to that magnitude usually brought the attention of wizards. He was quite surprised that Britain's involvement in the war had not caught Harry's. Harry Potter of all people was not paying attention to a war. It did not seem right. Of course, who was Draco to judge? He hardly knew the man.

Later in the day, Draco had decided to buy the evening edition of the local paper to which Harry had scoffed. Draco folded it under his arm and frowned. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just a sceptic when it comes to the news."

"And why, pray tell would you be a sceptic, Mr. Potter?"

Again, Harry scoffed. "Exactly. I'm Harry Potter. I have every reason to be a sceptic. Besides, have you read _The Daily Prophet_ lately? Actually…" he contemplated for a moment, "not just lately, ever? It's a bloody bottomless pit on false gossip and whoremongers. I've stopped reading it because you never know what's true and what's false. I've experienced their attacks first hand and I'm not about to become one of those stupid citizens who buys into their stories just because they say it's true. It's hurtful when it's not, and I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt."

"Not all papers are _The Daily Prophet_."

"No, but they've given me a serious lack of faith in reporters. They're all out for one thing and one thing only – a story. And I have no doubt that they'll do whatever they can to make a good one, even if it means embellishing the truth."

Draco's heart began jumping within his chest. It could really be true. Harry may not have ever read about his crime, and even if he did, maybe he would not believe it. "So… if you were to read a story about me in the paper about how I committed some heinous crime, what would you believe?"

Harry turned to study Draco. "I would believe whatever you would want to tell me about it."

"Don't you think that would be a little naïve?"

The darker man smiled gently. "Not at all. I know you better than any reporter who would ever tell a story about you. And I trust you to tell me the truth."

"Well," Draco looked down at his shoes, secretly pleased with the answer. "Thank you."

Harry nudged him in the side and they continued walking down the street. "Are you trying to tell me that you've committed some heinous crime, Kalen?"

For once, Draco felt he could be truthful. "Not that I know of," he looked up and grinned. "Anyway I can't say that I disagree with you on _The Daily Prophet_. Every time I have brunch with my mother she reads articles to me from it even though she claims to hate gossip."

"What sort of articles?"

"Oh, anything that catches her interest, I suppose. Most of the time, I could care less. She once read me an article on Matthew, you know, and how he wanted to settle down with his boyfriend…." Draco nudged Harry in the side. "And I really didn't care about it until I met you two. Odd that I did, really."

"Yeah… it is weird," Harry replied faintly.

Draco studied him in his sudden discomfort for a few moments. There were beads of sweat collecting on his forehead and upper lip. It was hotter than normal and Draco was just as warm as Harry looked.

"It's hot, right?" he commented.

"Yeah, I'm this close to catching fire."

"Well, that's great, because I've had an idea!" Draco bounced ahead of Harry and blocked his path, grabbing his hands as he did so. "Let's go swimming! There's a nice beach close by with plenty of sand and privacy. Want to?" Draco's eyes danced as he warmed to the idea.

Dipping into some cool water was just what he wanted. If it involved seeing Harry in next to nothing then what was the harm, really? "Actually," Harry looked sorrowful. "I was looking through my things, and I'm fairly certain I didn't pack anything for the beach."

Draco stopped bouncing on the heels of his feet. "You came on _vacation_ on an _island_ and you didn't bring anything for the beach? Potter, are you absolutely _out of your mind_?"

Harry shrugged.

"I pegged you for smarter than that, Harry Potter. I'm slightly disappointed in you. Well… it's no matter. Our sizes can't be that different, can they? I'll just borrow you something of mine."

"I'm a little thicker boned than you are."

"Not to worry, Potter," Draco grinned. "I think we look about the same build. Do you want to go swimming?"

"It sounds perfect."

Draco whooped, grabbed Harry's hand and ran down the street into an alley. "Hold on tight," he said with a twinkle to his eye. Harry responded with his own glint to his eye and cuddled in close to Draco's side. Draco's breath caught when he felt Harry's lips press softly against his jaw line.

"Tight enough?" Harry murmured, his breath hot on Draco's already warmed face.

Draco squeaked out in the affirmative, his face flaming as he did so. Harry chuckled. "Okay," Draco breathed out. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to your place to get something to swim in." His voice was a soothing whisper against his cheek, and then he kissed Draco's earlobe.

"I… I can't concentrate when you do that, Harry."

"I'm sorry," he apologised, but did not sound one bit contrite.

Draco made eye contact and shook his head. "You're going to give me nothing but trouble." Then he Disapparated and seconds later, they reappeared in the entrance of his flat. Harry was grinning at him. "I promise to make it worth your while."

Draco pulled away, his voice almost breathless as he attempted to gain his wits again. "I'll hold you to it."

"I hope so." Harry looked around the lobby and then shrugged. "So… what about that suit?"

"Right," Draco coughed and grabbed hold of his hand. "Upstairs."

A quick trip up the lift to the fifth floor found them in Draco's flat. The doors of the lift opened right into the spacious flat. There were windows lining every wall but one small wall and a terrace which lined the far wall outside. In the far right corner from the lift was an open door, through which was Draco's bedroom. The blond fought off a blush when he realised that there were dirty boxers and clothes sitting in a basket outside the door. He had had little time to clean up after himself as of late, and Narcissa had not sent a house elf in months. He hated cleaning. Luckily, he had needed to do the dishes just the other day in order to drink his tea, so the kitchen was, at least, relatively neat.

The living room was to the left of the bedroom, with two chairs and a loveseat arranged around a coffee table. If the coffee table had not been so well made and backed by spells, Draco was sure it would have collapsed under the weight of all the books. There was no room for an office, so he had his desk and a large shelf taking up the only wall without windows. The shelf and desk were also overflowing with books and Draco despaired he would never find a solution for all of them. He loved buying books and reading as much as he could. After all, when the club was running all right, and he had had all the sex (that is when Jude was around) and exercise he could handle, there was not much else to do.

Months ago, when Draco had lived in India, he had come across a rare book on auras. Shortly after purchasing it, he had needed to leave the country for somewhere else and had quickly forgotten his find for several months. But when stumbled upon again, Draco delved deeply into the book and many others of the same topic. He had decided that it would be useful to be able to read the auras of others. However, he had made little headway and really could only feel another aura when the person was asleep. The more powerful the wizard, the more difficult it was to detect. That was the reason Draco was not able to crack into Harry's. Wizards kept everything they were in their auras, their power, their personality, their feelings, everything, even if they knew nothing about it. The more powerful the wizard, the fiercer their power became while protecting the aura from outside invaders.

That, Draco thought, was exactly what people who studied auras were – trespassers. Because if Draco were to break into Harry's aura, he first could read the broad picture about what kind of wizard he is, light or Dark, and obtain a few other obscure ideas. Then he could pick at it, like picking at a loose thread on a shirt to make a hole. Through this hole, Draco could stick his finger and hope to make it big enough to climb inside. Only there would he really see who Harry was. He would feel the fears, hopes, happiness, love, sadness that have been stored away. Only the very strongest of which would be there, but they would be enough to tell Draco everything he would want to know about anybody.

Except becoming an aura reader would never really happen. To be able to see other auras, one had to be able to see and understand their own. Draco could see the big picture of his own, but he could not poke a hole to see inside. Only after a month's research had Draco figured out why. The word the book had used was 'lacuna.' It meant an empty space or gap, and Draco had one.

It was the memory loss he had suffered. A large portion of his life was gone to him, and so his magic felt the need to protect him. When it felt him poking at his aura, it had developed a wall, in a way white blood cells work together to fight off a sickness, his magic had worked to keep him from his mind. It would make him sick to see his own aura until the lacuna was filled. He would go mad, it had said, because he could not remember it as his own. The emotions he had once felt and could no longer remember would be too strong, and he would get confused. He would deny them as his own and confound his aura. Once a wizard's aura was confused, there was very little chance at them ever getting better.

So the study of auras had been put on hold and Draco had gone in search of books on memory. The only problem with it was, was that he had no idea exactly how he lost his memory. He was now grasping at straws. However, the setback did not stop him from trying to see the bigger picture of somebody's aura, especially Harry's. He was absolutely determined to find Harry's.

"That's a lot of books," Harry remarked as he came from looking in the kitchen, which was inset from the wall of books and desk.

"I like reading. But, you probably could tell that I was the type."

Harry haughtily stuck his nose in the air, a grin trying to force its way onto his face. "I could sense the bookworm in you, yes."

"If I'm a bookworm, you're a know-it-all, and I can say for certain which one is worse."

Harry lifted an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "Now, Kalen, I won't have you putting yourself down. I don't see why you would think being a bookworm is so bad."

Draco smirked. "You're incorrigible."

Harry shrugged, leaning boneless against a chair. "Do you really have suits, or are you taking the piss to get me in your flat?"

"And into my bed? Exactly, Mr. Potter, you're very observant."

Draco watched him intently, watched Harry's Adam's apple bob and his inaudible, short intake of breath. "Now you are taking the piss," the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips.

"Am I?" Draco slinked up to him, let Harry feel the brush of his body against his. "Maybe getting you into my bed right now wasn't my true intention, but I do intend on getting you into it before you leave the island. Tonight, tomorrow, the next day… it's really your decision, Mr. Potter." Harry swallowed thick. Draco smirked and gently ran his fingertips across the flesh of Harry's neck. "Somehow I have a feeling that if I kept at this I could have you in my bed right now."

Harry moved his face so that he was as close as he dared to Draco's face. "Don't get cocky. It doesn't fit you as well as your smirk."

"I can smirk while being cocky if it suits you better." Draco stared up at him for a few moments and then smirked.

Harry cracked a smile. "I think you're the incorrigible one among us."

"How about we agree that we both are and I get you a suit. Otherwise, we may never get to the beach."

"Sure, but I have to tell you my intention before you do that, since you told me of your intention to get me in bed."

"What's your purpose, then?"

"It's just that…" Harry placed his hand on Draco's cheek and turned his head up more. "You need something to lead up to the bed part, don't you? Some sort of action?"

"We're not flirting enough for your liking?" Draco suddenly had cotton in the back of his throat. His mouth fell open slightly as Harry moved ever closer, his breath becoming harsher.

"I just enjoy having sexual tension reach its peak before…" Harry paused to bite down softly on Draco's bottom lip. "Before we can't control ourselves anymore."

Draco swallowed. Suddenly, Harry was in control of the situation, and Draco had been none the wiser as Harry turned the tables. Damn, he was good at it. And Draco still had Harry virtually pinned against the chair, and he was still helpless to do anything about what was to happen. "What are you going to do?" His voice came in a whisper.

"Nothing," Harry lowered his voice, his eyes rapidly scanning Draco's face. "Just… this."

Then he was lowering his head and Draco was breathless. Every scent on Harry's pillow that morning was invading his mind, his senses, and with Harry gently wrapping an arm around his waist, was making him dizzy. The lips that pressed against his felt full, and warm, and moist, almost like an exquisite piece of cake, but so much sweeter. Draco's eyes fluttered shut and he melted against Harry's chest. If Draco had been paying attention, he would have felt something click into place within him, but he was otherwise occupied. The end to the kiss came as unexpected as the kiss itself, and Draco stretched his neck up for more before he could think of what he was doing.

Harry gently tucked his blond hair behind his ear, pressing his cheek against Draco's. "Where's the tension if I give you more?" he whispered.

"If you keep creating tension, I won't be able to go to the beach until you give me a little alone time in the loo."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm done. For now."

Draco pulled away blinking. Something was different now, but he was not sure what. Maybe Harry was working magic over him. Maybe he was paranoid. "Okay. I'll go look for the suits. Make yourself comfortable. You may have to move a few books to do so," he shrugged apologetically.

"I might take a look on the terrace."

Draco looked at him through his lashes, smiling shyly. He turned, trying not to feel self-conscious, but the burn of Harry's eyes on his back made him blush and burn for him to come touch him again.

"Take your time," Harry murmured. "I'll wait for you, Kalen."

Draco could not help but feel warm with the promise. He hoped Harry's new intention was to keep it. Somehow, he knew Harry would.

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**Post A/N:** Please leave a review. If you would like to know when I am updating and would like cookies and the like, please feel free to join my Yahoo!group. I believe the link is on my author page. Come join the fun:-D 


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** Um, hi. I'm back again really soon. I figured that y'all deserved it after such a long wait. I do so hope you'll enjoy this chapter because hell. I enjoyed writing it. Once again, for the Americans, I should note that **clot** means an idiot. Thanks to everybody who continues to read and review. It means a lot. And as always, thanks to my awesome beta, PadfootsBitch!

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**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Seven_  
:.:.:.:.:

"Where have you been?" a low voice whispered in his ear.

Draco stiffened in surprise and slowly turned. Jude stood behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Miss me, have you?" Draco smirked, the tension draining immediately.

"I was just under the impression that we would have met sooner than this. I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."

Draco thought of Harry and smiled. "I went to the beach," he replied dismissively and turned back around to push through the crowds of people. It was true after all. He and Harry had spent the better part of the evening at the beach, only leaving when they could see the street lights beyond had a full glow, and it was almost too dark to see where they were walking. They had stumbled over obstacles and clung together in laughter, and all the while, Draco could not shake the feeling that everything was not so off kilter anymore. Harry seemed to have a certain knack for making him feel that way. It was a couple miles back to Draco's flat, but they walked the entirety, intentionally forgetting about magic or cars, hand-in-hand talking about nothing that mattered as they had done the entire night. After they had changed back into boxers in Draco's flat, Draco had walked Harry back to the hotel.

"What will you do now?" Harry had asked as they came to the front door of the hotel.

"I think I should stop by the club and see how things are going. Then I think I'll take a page from your book and go home to bed. I'm knackered after what you've put me through today."

Harry rolled his eyes. "No Jude then?"

It was then that Draco remembered about Jude, how he had probably been calling Draco all day wondering where he was. He would have to deal with him before he even thought of going home. Besides, Jude was leaving tomorrow. Draco felt sadness at the thought, but it was dampened as he looked at Harry. Instead of telling Harry the truth, he shook his head. "No, I'm not seeing him tonight."

Just the sight of Harry perking up from the confirmation was enough to justify the lie. It was for the greater good. With their hands still linked loosely, Draco had stepped closer. "I should probably get some work done at the club tomorrow, but I thought that we could have lunch, then dinner, and we could do something afterwards. Then… maybe we'll go dancing?"

Harry smiled and took a step closer as well. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow then."

"Okay. I want to know… you're not averse to being teased?" With a devilish grin he had brushed his lips across Harry's and dragged them down to Harry's neck and planted a gentle kiss against his pulse point.

"With who?" Jude's voice brought Draco back to the present time.

Draco excused himself as he pushed through a crowd at the base of the stairs to ascend to his office. "With a friend. You don't know him."

Quickly, Draco spun on a stair, making Jude collide with him. "Why do you care? Are you jealous?" Draco searched the other man's face. Of course Jude was not jealous. He did not care that much about Draco, probably did not care that much about anybody for that matter.

"Don't be a fuckwit, Kalen. I was just curious."

Somewhere, Draco felt disappointment, but he pushed it away. "Good. I'm just making sure you aren't going soft on me." He turned and started climbing again.

"What I _had_ been hoping," Jude continued behind him, "was to get back in bed with you and fuck you 'til I had to leave tomorrow. But we can still start now. It's not midnight yet."

"I have things to do."

Jude pushed Draco against the office door and ground his hips into the blonde's backside. "Forget it."

Draco was fighting a losing battle. He did not really want to lie to Harry. He could resist Jude, but the truth of the matter was that Draco was wound from all the tension Harry seemed to relish so much. It was not as though his attraction to Jude was gone either. "I have paperwork I really need to get done so I don't get stuck doing it tomorrow." But even as he said it, he was grinding back against Jude. The gentle poke and grinding pressure was making his mouth go dry. A moan gurgled in the back of his throat.

"I think you'll be doing it tomorrow," Jude slipped his hand around Draco's front and cupped his growing erection. When Draco Disapparated with Jude wrapped around him, he hardly had the concentration to carry them both. Jude already had Draco's trousers off and had him bent over a chair in the living room when Draco's mind finally caught up.

"Yeah… I'll do it tomorrow."

Then Jude was pushing inside of him and he forgot everything as Jude made good on his promise to fuck him hard. Later that night, when Draco and Jude had fallen into an exhausted sleep, Draco slept fitfully, tossing and turning. His sleep was plagued with a dream – a dream of a young boy with wild, dark hair, vibrant green eyes, and a smile that was bright and hopeful, but made Draco want to throw up. In the dream, Draco hated that boy and how he always managed to beat Draco at everything.

In the morning, when Draco woke, a man who was much the same in appearance, only older, was on his mind. However, the dream had already been forgotten, and so had the boy he had so hated.

The next few days went by quickly. Harry spent most of his waking minutes with Draco. However, after their night on the beach, Draco seemed preoccupied and at times, almost sulky. Harry, who in the past had known exactly how to handle Draco's moods, was now at a loss. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but did not know if Draco would react badly to his prying.

Although on this particular evening, as they strolled down a trail on the beach together, Harry caught Draco frowning to himself, as he sulkily kicked stray rocks from their path.

Harry, who had more of it than he could handle, stopped them in their tracks. Draco turned to look at him curiously. Harry turned Draco's chin up, his eyes soft and smile kind. "There's no reason to frown for you look like an upside down clown. And when a clown frowns, it makes a child's world stop spinning around and around."

Draco blinked for a few moments before smiling slightly. "That's quite ridiculous, Harry."

Shrugging, Harry tugged on their clasped hands and they continued walking. "What are you thinking about to make you frown so hard?"

The blond was silent for a while before he answered. "A lot of things, I think," he finally shrugged. "But I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Harry sighed inwardly. It was difficult to adjust to this Draco. For the most part, he was exactly the same, but the time away had definitely changed him. He seemed mellower somehow, which was not necessarily a bad thing, Harry reasoned. It certainly came with age, he supposed. He, himself had changed in the past four years. Of course it had been inevitable what with a child and new partner…. However, what was even more difficult was this silence. Draco had never had much trouble in confiding his problems with Harry, especially after the therapy sessions. It had been as though there was nothing that they did not know about each other. But now, even as Harry glanced over to the blond, there was a thick wall separating them. He sighed, looking away. He wondered if they would ever be able to break it back down.

It wasn't fair. After everything they had worked for together, it had come to this. They were more or less starting from square one. Only this time, Harry was constantly a nervous wreck, and he was sure the indigestion he had suffered the past two days had something to do with his nerves.

"I would like to sit down," Draco looked at him. "There's a place just up here that I rather like."

"That sounds fine," Harry nodded, unable to hold Draco's gaze.

Draco shrugged and led him to a spot beyond the pathway to a copse of trees. Inside of which were at least four benches in a circle. In the middle of the circle was a statue of a man with flowers surrounding the base. Draco sat them down on one of the side benches where there was a view of the ocean. It was peaceful here. Voices drifted up from the walkway they had just left, and the gentle lap of water against the shore helped to muffle what was being said. Harry scooted closer to Draco and placed a hand on his knee. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry could see Draco staring at it for a little while. Then, the blond expelled a breath and tentatively wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders.

For the moment, Harry allowed himself to forget everything that plagued his mind. He gently leaned his head against Draco's cheek. Draco blew out from his nose and chuckled. He smoothed Harry's hair away from his face.

"Your hair is out of control, you know this, right?"

Harry grinned. "My whole life it's been a problem. Before I knew I was a wizard, my aunt would try to cut it, but when I would wake up the next day, it would be back to normal." Throughout his visit so far, he had been feeding Draco small pieces of information about his life. It seemed only fair that Draco learn about him. Harry knew everything about Draco… well, almost everything. Too much time had passed for Harry to be able to claim that anymore.

Draco leaned his head away. "You grew up thinking you were a Muggle?"

"Well, back then, I didn't know what a Muggle was, but yes, I suppose you could say that. Anyway, it's not important. I've made peace with my aunt at least. My uncle is a different story."

"Did they have kids?"

"One named Dudley. He beat me up a lot, but after sixth year, we became friends of a sort. Voldemort killed him, nearly killed my uncle too."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"It's all right. It's been a long time, and I've had other deaths to keep me occupied. But I don't want to talk about it."

They fell silent for a long time. After a few minutes, a man and a woman came into their clearing holding hands. They sat down and only then did they notice Harry and Draco firmly holding each other. The couple whispered a little, glancing their way a few times before they uneasily stood back up and walked away.

"Stupid Muggles," Draco muttered. "I could easily do the same thing to them. I could act like seeing a man and woman together creeps me out just as much as seeing two men together does them."

Harry patted his knee. "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry. But I've been on the end of more hatred here than anywhere else that I've been, mostly Muggle tourists. Of course…" he paused thoughtfully, "I haven't exactly had many chances to test this theory out in other places I've lived."

"Well, next time, we'll show them what two men kissing looks like."

Draco's eyes sparkled as he looked at him. "Promise?"

"Of course."

As they fell silent again, Harry watched couples walk past. Some looked at them, some pointedly ignored them. It made Harry acutely remember that these civilians were not the only people watching them. Somewhere, Dean was probably hiding under a Disillusionment charm or an Invisibility cloak watching. Harry felt his blood boil at the thought. He should be able to have time alone with Draco without wondering who was watching at the moment. Draco seemed oblivious to Harry's rising ire, as he had taken to humming a local tune and gently running his nose and mouth through Harry's hair.

Harry's eyes fell closed. His desperate need to tell Draco everything was ready to burst through at any moment. He needed to take Draco home to Ayida. They had to be a family again. "I love you," he wanted to murmur into Draco's ear. "I know who you are, Draco. We went to school together." _Anything_. "I hated you when we were kids. You were arrogant, spoiled, bigoted, and had a pointy ferrety face – you still have a pointy face, but I would pay money to be able to look at and touch it. I would sell my soul to kiss you. I've never loved anybody like I love you."

Draco laid his cheek against Harry's head. "Where did you get that clown line, Harry?"

Harry blinked, attempting to get his thoughts back on track. "Er – I, well, it's in a book I read quite often." Harry felt Draco's face break into a grin.

"What sort of book is that?" he asked, a laugh rising in his throat.

Maybe… this could be what he confessed to. Ayida. The Aurors couldn't… no, they _wouldn't_ do anything to Harry for telling Draco about their daughter. They were already asking so much for him to keep everything a secret. He was allowed this one confession.

"It's a book for children –"

"Can't bear to grow up and read adult literature, Potter?" Draco teased.

"Well, I'm not much of a reader, really, but… well, my daughter is rather fond of the clown book. It's her favourite. If I were to get her a real clown though, she would probably scream her head off."

Harry felt Draco tense and then he moved away. They slowly made eye contact. Draco's face was disbelieving. "You have a daughter?"

"She's yours, too," Harry almost said, but he closed his mouth.

"Her name is Ayida," he said instead.

"Were you ever going to tell me? For Merlin's sake, Harry, I imagine she's fairly important to you, and you haven't even mentioned her before this?"

"Of course she's important to me. She's been the only thing that has really mattered to me since she was born."

"Then why keep her a secret? Why didn't Matthew say anything?"

"I don't know why he didn't say anything. And I wasn't keeping her a secret. I didn't find it necessary to say anything until now. Besides, don't tell me that you don't keep anything from me, Kalen." The use of the pseudonym was purposeful, and Harry felt vaguely triumphant when Draco visibly flinched.

"Point taken."

"Besides, we've only met in the last few days. If you want to know more about me, just ask. When has information come to you without a question? I'm not going to offer it up if I don't know you're interested."

Draco smiled. "Okay. Can I ask you some questions then?"

"Of course."

His eyes lit up. "What did you say her name was, and how old is she?"

"She turned four in September and her name is Ayida Lilith."

"That's a beautiful name, and wasn't your mum named Lily?"

Harry nodded.

"It's fitting then. I really like it. Ayida isn't a name you hear too often."

Harry felt himself glow. He had always liked Ayida's name, but wished he could know if Draco liked it. Of course, it had been Draco's idea, but they had only mentioned it once. Draco, who had looked away, looked again at Harry. They both broke into identical, face splitting grins. "Why do you look so happy, Harry?" Draco chuckled. "You're positively glowing."

"Nothing," Harry laughed. "It must be a father's love showing." He felt breathless as Draco continued to stare in wonder.

"You're crazy," Draco broke out in a laugh, and pulled Harry to him for a hug.

Harry felt absolutely rambling and started laughing uncontrollably as he held tight to the other man. It seemed that it was contagious because before long, Draco was laughing just as hard as Harry. They clung together in their delirious laughter. "What are we laughing at?" Draco gasped through bouts of laughter.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know!" he wheezed. They only continued to laugh harder. He wondered if maybe he was finally having a nervous breakdown. It had been threatening since he had first found out about Draco. This must be it, he thought. Next stop, St. Mungo's, Psych Ward. At least his indigestion might go away.

Finally, after much too long, their laughter died and they slowly settled back into their previous position, with Draco's arm wrapped securely around Harry's shoulders. "My stomach hurts now," Harry giggled.

"I have an ache in my side," Draco complained through a grin. "My face hurts a little too."

"I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard," Harry confessed.

They looked at each other. "Me neither," Draco replied as they both became quite serious.

It was not a breakdown, Harry realised then. He felt happy just then, happier than he could ever remember. Despite everything, he was happy. He hoped Draco was feeling the same. It had not been the last time he had laughed so hard, but Harry did remember laughing to the point of rolling on the floor as Draco laughed himself breathless on the couch. It had been some point early in their first year of marriage, and Harry had remembered feeling exactly as he felt now. How silly, he thought. He could not even remember what they had been laughing at. Maybe it had been nothing, just as it had been now.

"In fact," Draco whispered, "I don't remember laughing like that ever, in my whole life."

"Well," Harry leaned closer to him. "Now you do."

"I want more."

Harry licked his lips. "Someday you will."

"I don't know why I believe you," Draco smiled faintly.

"Me neither. I lie remember?" Harry reached up and touched Draco's face. "But I wouldn't lie when I'm promising something. And… and I promise that we'll laugh like that again. I'm not leaving here quite yet."

Harry reached up and softly pressed his lips against Draco's. Draco shuddered and squeezed Harry more firmly to him. "I want you," Draco murmured, his voice shaking. Harry ran his tongue along Draco's bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth.

"Let's go to my hotel," Harry suggested. "Any Muggles watching?"

Draco lifted his head. "Nobody's around."

Pulling Draco to his feet, Harry looked around again and smiling, Disapparated. The two men appeared again in the designated Apparition point next to the hotel, as there were barriers holding them away. The blond grasped Harry's hand and pulled him forward. Harry watched him from behind with no little amusement. He was almost overly eager. Then again, Harry felt just as desperate for this to happen.

"Kalen!" a woman called as soon as Draco stepped into the street. He stopped and dropped Harry's hand, only to push against his chest so that he would not enter the street.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Draco ignored him. "I have been looking all over for you, darling," the woman said. Harry felt his blood go cold. There was no mistaking that voice. He pressed himself further into the shadows.

"Mother, what do you want?"

"I thought that you might be out with that nice Ukrainian wizard you told me about so I have been through all the hotels in the District hoping to see you. Is he here with you?"

Harry frowned as he watched Draco step forward out of sight. "No, I was going to meet him in his room, actually. What do you need, mother?"

"Something dreadful has happened," Narcissa's voice lowered to a whisper. Harry moved closer to listen. "Draco, I first went to your club to see you. I waited in your office for the better part of an hour when one of your guards came in and told me to contact you. He said that a fight had broken out and then a fire started. I did not stay to see the damage, so I am afraid I do not know if the fire was put out or not. I am afraid it requires your immediate attention. Your new interest will have to wait for another day."

"Thank you for telling me, mother. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to assure that my date does not feel like he's been stood up." His voice rose suddenly. "I will be in the hotel. You may go ahead, mother. I will be there shortly."

Harry backed further into the shadows again, his breath coming short. He waited impatiently for Narcissa to move, but felt that she was still there waiting for something. Casting a glamour on himself and taking his glasses off, Harry moved out of the shadows and into the street. Narcissa was facing him when he appeared, her eyes narrowed at him. He nodded slightly and walked past her.

"Excuse me, sir," she called after him.

I can't be British, he thought frantically, but did not know if he knew any other accent. He settled for Australian. "Ma'am?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes more. "Do you know the man I was just speaking to?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't have a clue as to who you are talking about."

"I did not hear you Apparate while he and I spoke. You must have Apparated with him or just after him so that he did not notice."

"I can't help you, ma'am."

Narcissa bore down on him with a mad gleam in her eye. Before Harry knew what was happening, her wand point was sticking into his side. "What is your business here?"

"What business is it of yours?" Harry retorted.

"Do you know my son?"

"Who is your son?"

"Your accent, sir, does not convince me, and neither does your glamour. Have you been consorting with my son?"

"How do you assume that I have a glamour?"

"I can see it, you fool."

Harry felt his eye twitch. He hardly cared anymore. "If you can see a glamour charm, then tell me who I am."

"I cannot see through it. I just know it is there," Narcissa hissed.

"Did you even stop to think that the reason for my glamour charm has nothing to do with you?" He stealthily pulled his wand from his pocket and stuck it into Narcissa's stomach. "Put away your wand, or you will regret it, ma'am."

"Then answer my question."

Harry dropped the accent and moved closer. "I already have. I'm warning you now, Mrs. Malfoy, give up whatever you are doing. You have been figured out and it won't be long before it's all over for you. Draco will be in good hands soon enough – his husband. Harry Potter deserves to have him and will be happier than you could even imagine having him back. Now, if you will excuse me, I have great need to sleep."

Harry stepped backwards, his wand still pointed. "Don't even think of attacking me. It will not bring any good news for you."

Narcissa's face was hard. "Does my son know?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Then Harry disappeared around the corner and entered the hotel. He waited a moment, but it appeared that she did not follow him. So, he hurried to the lift and as he turned a corner, Draco stood in waiting. Harry jumped, his nerves fried. "Sorry, sir," Draco stepped aside, but then squinted. Of course, Harry thought. He had been trained to see through glamours in Auror training. "Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry dropped the charm and slipped his glasses back on.

"Why the glamour?"

"You didn't seem to want your mother to see me, so I put it on when you went in the hotel."

"Yeah…" Draco shifted. "I'm sorry about that."

"No, I get it. No offence, but your mother is… something."

"You talked to her?"

"She stuck her wand in my side." He pressed the up button repeatedly. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to threats."

"Did you hex her?"

"No, I just threatened her so she would back off. She seemed mollified. I'm not too bad at making threats myself."

"Did she know you were British?"

The lift doors opened and they stepped inside. "By the end she did. I spoke in an Australian accent, but she wasn't buying it because she could see that I wasn't who I seemed." Harry pressed 'nine' and turned to look at the other man. "Would it matter either way?"

"Never mind," Draco shrugged. "I'm sorry about her. Did she say anything else?"

"She just seemed protective of you, really. She asked if I was consorting with her son, and I told her to shove it. Then…" Harry stopped thoughtfully, "she informed me that you had problems that not even you're aware of, and that it would be best if I stayed away. Again, I told her to shove it. I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, you know. Anyway, she made it sound as though she knows more about you than even you know about yourself."

The lift stopped at the ninth floor and let them out. Draco was uncomfortable. "Something's happened at my club," the blond said. "I'm going to need to go. I just wanted to say goodbye to you."

"No, I'll see you tomorrow," Harry corrected and then pulled him into his room. They closed the door and they fell into each other's arms.

"I know my mother didn't cause the trouble there, but I have an irrational urge to blame her for everything that's going wrong right now."

Me too, Harry agreed with a mental shake of his head. He merely rubbed the small of Draco's back.

"She seems to ruin everything that's good for me. And…" Draco gave Harry's cheek a lingering kiss. "She'll try to keep me from you. I know it. But I won't let her this time."

"I won't either."

Draco smiled faintly, rubbing noses with Harry. "So, I _will_ see you tomorrow. And if I have anything to say about it, the next day too."

"I can't wait," Harry murmured, and then brushed his lips against Draco's. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," the blond whispered, his eyes almost pleading with Harry for something. Finally, he expelled a breath and kissed Harry hard. "This is insane," he whispered between kisses. "Why do you…" Kiss. "Make me feel…" Kiss. "Like everything is right?"

Whimpering against his words, Harry kissed Draco with all the love he could muster, attempting to push it through, to make him understand. He coaxed Draco's mouth open easily, a burning feeling in his chest. It was a bubble and it contained the words Draco needed to hear. Harry clutched at Draco's hair, trying so hard to make him see why everything was right where it should be. A moan rattled in Draco's throat and Harry was sure that the bubble had passed through to him. He understood! He remembered!

But then they pulled away, and Draco only leaned his head against Harry's. "I have to go. I don't want to, but I have to."

Harry's hand trembled as he brought it against Draco's chest. "No use putting it off, is there, Kalen?"

Expelling a breath, Draco kissed Harry again before pushing away. He smiled as he opened the door. "I'm positive you've bewitched me somehow, Potter."

Harry held his hands up. "I'm innocent. I can't help you're so attracted to me." Draco's eyes sparkled and then he turned and was gone. Harry closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes closing.

"What were you thinking?" demanded a deep voice.

"I was thinking that I'm tired of this whole charade, Kingsley," Harry opened his eyes.

"We had an agreement, Harry. If anything is jeopardized by what you have done tonight, you're out. We can't risk losing you."

"And I can't risk dying. I have a daughter to think of. I'll be fine. She doesn't know it's me anyway."

"No, but she knows we're onto her."

"What I don't understand," Harry crossed the room to sit on the bed, "is how you expect to arrest her when all the evidence you've collected is insubstantial. You need something concrete, Kingsley. You said it yourself. If you want something concrete, you have to do something risky. I believe I helped the case by warning her that we're onto her."

"I'll reserve my judgement."

"Fine, but the fact of the matter is, is that somebody has to stick their neck out to get something done. If I have to, I will do it. I'll show her that I know Draco's alive."

"Harry, you'll be putting your life directly into danger. What about Ayida?"

"I won't die. If Voldemort couldn't kill me, then neither will Narcissa."

"You're becoming cocky."

"I'm not. Kingsley, you're not concentrating on what's important. You shouldn't go around pointing fingers and yelling at people when what you should be doing is damage control. You still have me. I'm close enough to him. Let me put a tracking charm on him. In case Narcissa convinces him to run, we'll know where he is. If we have Draco, we have his mother."

Kingsley paced the terrace doors and stared out. "I still think that what you've done is incredibly stupid. It makes me glad that you can't be an Auror, otherwise I think you may have been causing us these types of problems all the time."

"I choose to take that as a compliment," Harry frowned.

"Nevertheless, it could potentially turn into something good, so I'll let you put the tracking charm on him. But remember, Harry, he was an Auror-in-training. If your death had not been staged, he would have finished, he was that close." Kingsley turned. "He was trained by some of the best in the Academy. Be certain he won't detect you."

"I'll figure it out. Don't worry."

"I've done nothing but since you arrived, Potter."

"Well, don't, I've got it covered."

Kingsley looked sceptically down at him for a few moments and silently left through the front door.

Over the next days, Harry and Draco rarely had a spare moment together. Draco was swamped with paperwork at the club. There had been extensive damage done to the dance floor from a fire set by somebody's wand. The local Magical Law Enforcement was looking into it and constantly knocking at Draco's door to ask him questions. On top of that, Draco had to look into getting the place fixed up and to get the smell of smoke out.

Each time Harry stopped by, Draco was at his desk doing paperwork, or he had his head stuck in the fireplace looking into businesses who could do the repair work to the club. And each time Draco would look up and his face would contort with longing. Then he would jump up and slam Harry against the wall and snog him until they were interrupted, which inevitably had happened far too quickly every time.

"Harry," he nearly whimpered on the fourth day, stumbling up from his chair. "I think I'm going mad. I literally can't think of what I was doing two minutes ago, and all I can think is that you can fix me. Besides the fact that I'm losing my mind, I can't take it if I can't get off with you tonight. Oh, God," he moaned. "And you're probably leaving soon! You've been here over a week, and I still need to get you into my bed." He gripped Harry's biceps. "For fuck's sake, I don't even care if it's my bed; I just want to be with you."

Heat swirled in Harry's stomach and his lips parted. "Come over tonight then, Kalen. Forget everything else for one night. Please."

Harry had to have Draco completely to himself. He had to get the tracking charm on him before he left. Tomorrow morning, he would be leaving for England for at least the day. Ayida was under the impression that Harry had deserted her and was crying almost constantly for him. When he had called the Weasley's house the day before, she would not even look at him, she was so upset.

Draco blinked at him, his eyes going oddly blank for a moment. "Wh… what? Did you say something?"

It was Harry's turn to blink. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Draco shook his head as if to contradict his verbal answer. "I just… I must have zoned out for a moment. Did you say something?"

Harry pressed the palm of his hand against Draco's stomach, worry settling into the pit of his stomach. "I suggested that you come to my hotel room tonight."

Draco nodded slightly and then kissed him. "I'll try."

"I really want to see you tonight, Kalen. I'm going to go see Ayida tomorrow. I need to spend the day with her. She somehow got the idea into her head that I've deserted her and she's constantly wailing about it. Are you sure you're okay?" Harry searched the other man's face, looking for a clue as to what had just happened. However, just as it had been in the other times Draco had blacked something out, there was no indication in his facial expressions or his body language. It was as though it never happened.

"I'm fine. Right… your daughter," Draco nodded. "But you're coming back?"

"Tomorrow night or the next day. But I will be back. I'm not exactly done with my vacation yet. And are you sure you're okay?"

Draco lit up and he kissed Harry again. "I'm fine. I need to get back to work. Please… wait for me?"

Harry nodded, unable to push back the feeling of nostalgia. He remembered very well how much Draco could get into his work and forget about everything else. Therefore, when Draco never showed up, Harry could not find it in himself to be surprised.

Early the next morning when Harry awoke – the sun had not even risen yet – Harry composed a note and asked the hotel staff to send it.

_Kalen,  
I waited for as long as I could. However, I have a portkey to London in a half hour and Ayida is likely already up and waiting expectantly. I don't want to disappoint her anymore than I already have.  
I will be back, but this time, I hope you'll wait for me. Good luck with repairs. _

_Yours, Harry Potter_

_P.S. If you would like to talk to me, I'll open the Floo for you. It's Potter's Den. _

When Harry arrived at the Wizarding Transportation Centre in London, Hermione and Ron were waiting anxiously for him. Hermione flew herself around his neck and kissed his cheek. Ron clapped him on the back. "How is he?" Hermione asked as she took his hand. "Oh, it must have been like a slap in the face to see him again," she continued before he could answer. "And then it must have been so exciting to know he's okay. Do you still get along fine? Does he look as different as in the photos?"

"Hermione let the man get a breath," Ron tore him away from her. "He just travelled across the ocean to get here. He's tired, look at him. It must be dreadful early there. Now… damn, where the bloody hell is the Apparition area?" Ron looked around bewildered.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed. "It's not that big of a building, Ronald." She took hold of Harry again and led him away. "Seriously, Harry, how is Draco? Does he know anything?"

"I don't know. He seems fine, you know, except that there's just a big chunk of well… of me missing." He laughed sourly. He had not allowed himself to become emotional over anything since he had arrived. There was not any room for it when Draco was not allowed to know anything, but suddenly, he felt it overtake him. Hermione rubbed his back. Harry fell silent for a moment, deciding to leave out the small instances where it seemed Draco seemed to completely forget what they were talking about. There was a logical explanation for that. Many people did it. Draco probably just has a lot on his mind.

Instead, Harry smiled. "We get along great, really. He likes me a lot. I think that sometimes he might be remembering something to be able to feel the way he does around me, you know? But, of course he wouldn't know where to begin in explaining it. He doesn't know he's missing me from his memory. He said a few days ago that everything feels right when he's with me." Harry looked hopefully between his best friends. "That's a good sign, right?"

"That's a great sign, Harry," Hermione nodded and Ron hummed in agreement.

"Yeah, I thought so too."

A few minutes later, they all Apparated onto the front lawn of the Burrow. Harry eagerly ran inside to the living room where he could hear Ayida's soft voice. "Hi, sweetie," he stopped to stare at her as she pretended to read a book to Molly. She was so like Draco it hurt.

Ayida looked up and immediately her big green eyes filled up with tears. "Daddy left me!" she wailed.

"No," he shushed her and went to pick her up. "I'm right here, sweetie. I didn't leave you, I promise. I would never leave you."

She began to cry so hard into his shoulder that she began hiccupping. "I just had her calmed down. She started crying after breakfast," Molly patted his shoulder. "She'll be fine, dear. You know how little ones can be. Ron was the same way when he was about that age. He never let go of my leg and would wail if his father picked him up."

"Mum!" Ron whined.

"Kind of like that, except more snot."

Harry grinned over at his friend. "Thank you, Molly."

"It's nothing. Do you want some breakfast, Harry? You look like you're famished."

"If it's no trouble."

"None at all! It's good to see you back, and I hope to see that dashing husband of yours again as well."

Harry smiled. "Me too."

Molly sniffed and walked into the kitchen, ruffling Ron's hair on the way. He ducked, but it only made it easier for her to reach.

Harry sat in the seat Molly had just vacated, gently rocking Ayida from side to side. After quite a few minutes, her crying finally began to subside and she sat back in his lap, her face full of tears and fresh snot. Harry waved his wand over her face to clean it up before she could rub her hands over it. She rubbed her nose just as everything was cleared away and Harry smiled down at her.

"Do you think I would have come back for you if I had left you, sweetie?"

Ayida shrugged and sniffed. "I wouldn't leave you for anything, you know that?" Harry smoothed her errant hair away from her face.

"You stay now?" she sniffed again.

"I'll stay to put you to bed tonight, but I have more work that needs to be done away from home. But, sweetie, I promise to call you everyday from now on. And I promise that I'm not leaving you. Before you know it, we'll be home. You just have to be a big girl and be patient, okay? Can you do that for daddy? It would mean so much to me, you know."

Ayida's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded. "I'm big girl."

Harry smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. "If you be good for grandma, I'll bring you out for ice cream, or maybe I'll get you a new toy. It's been a while since I've bought you a toy, hasn't it?" She shrugged again, but she seemed interested now. "Okay," Harry brightened, "now that I have your interest, I'm yours all day today. What do you want to do?"

"Uuummm… I want to play outside?"

In the end, Harry and Ron decided to go to Harry's house to fly. Ayida loved being on a broom with Harry, and loved it even more when Harry pretended to let her steer. She always screamed with joy at thinking she was in control.

"What position do you think she'll play on Gryffindor's team?" Ron asked as they paused in the air to let Ayida get her breath back. She had been getting overexcited so Harry wanted to calm her down a little.

"You don't know she'll be in Gryffindor, Ron," Harry grinned. "Draco's a Slytherin, if you remember."

"How could I forget?" Ron scowled. "Clot. Slytherins… they're all little clots." When Harry opened his mouth to defend Draco, Ron laughed. "I'm only kidding, Harry. But I suppose I forget that Ayida could be in Slytherin. Anyway, what position do you think she'll play?"

"If she even plays Quidditch, you mean."

"How could she not? She's four and she loves flying, Harry. Besides, with you and Draco as parents, it's in her blood, isn't it?"

"Well," Harry paused for a moment, staring into the trees surrounding them. "Chaser or a Seeker, I think. She loves passing balls, and she's a ball of energy. I think she'd enjoy flying up and down the pitch in games. But, I can tell she's got good reflexes."

Harry looked down at her. She hardly seemed to realise that he and Ron were talking about her. She was still giggling and looking down at the ground. As Harry watched, she leaned further over the edge of the broom and stuck her tongue out at the ground, blowing a raspberry.

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Not a Quidditch player… I don't know who you're kidding. She's already laughing at the idea of gravy."

"It's gravity, Ron, not gravy." Laughing, Harry pulled her back into an upright position. "All right, little one, it's time to go down now. I'm starving and freezing."

Ron whooped and beat them to the ground. The rest of the day was spent inside. Ayida made them finger paint, play with her dolls, and when Hermione showed up, Ayida demanded that Hermione make homemade ice cream, something that Ron said Hermione had become addicted to doing ever since she found a spell Fortescue used. Throughout the day, Harry kept an eye on the fireplace, now worried that he had given the phrase for his fireplace to Draco. Hermione had informed him of the letter Draco had sent her, so he knew Draco knew who Ron and Hermione were. If he were to pop in and see the two… the Aurors would be furious. Harry made sure to move anything out of sight from the fireplace, such as pictures or objects that might be familiar to Draco. However, at the same time, he desperately hoped for Draco to call and see all those things, to see Ron and Hermione, to see Ayida so as to see the resemblance…. Then Harry would be able to explain everything.

However, the day wore on and Draco never showed his face in the fire. Ron and Hermione took Al home after dinner, and Harry played with Ayida until bedtime. They decided to stay at home for the night and Harry would return to San Juan after returning Ayida to the Burrow the following morning.

As it was nearing midnight, Harry was sprawled on the couch watching reruns of sitcoms on the television when behind the couch the area was splashed with sudden green light. Harry sat up blinking, his heart thumping hard in his chest. The head in the fire was swirling for a few moments before it came into focus. Draco looked around for a few moments before he spotted Harry's head over the back of the couch and grinned. "All right, Harry?"

It was suddenly as though the past week had never happened. It was as though this was the first time he had seen Draco alive. He was short of breath and desperate to touch him to make sure he was real. "Hi," he managed to croak out after a few long moments.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I'm not really tired yet. I was just watching the telly."

"Oh, that must be that strange light over there. Er – so your daughter is in bed, I take it?"

"Yeah, she's been for a few hours now." Harry stood and climbed over the couch and then sat on the hearth. "Miss me, do you?" he grinned slightly.

"Bored. It's dinnertime, and I have nobody to eat with."

"Well, I can't leave. I'm the only one here with Ayida."

"Oh," Draco looked crestfallen. "When are you coming back?"

"Tomorrow after I bring Ayida to her grandparent's house."

Draco nodded and was silent for a moment. "Well… I have nothing to do and you're not tired, so… would it be a problem if I…. Never mind. It's stupid of me to think it."

Harry scooted closer to the fire. "No, what is it?"

"I just thought that… well, that I could come to your house for a little while, and I don't know. I'll watch the telly with you. I don't think I've ever watched one."

The first thought on Harry's mind were all the pictures hanging on the walls and on various tables around the living room. He had their wedding pictures scattered about and various other pictures of them together. There were also pictures of Ron and Hermione. It was the first time he hated that his house was virtually an oversized photo album. "Yeah," he found himself saying despite his best reasons to say otherwise. "I'd like to have company."

Draco's face lit up. "I just need to dress. I was at the gym before I called, so give me a few minutes."

"No problem."

Harry waited until Draco pulled his head back and then he shot up and set to work. He waved his wand around, banishing pictures from tables and walls, moving appropriate pictures over to make it look natural, and finally straightening up a little, though he doubted Draco would mind if the house was a little messy. Now the only thing he would have to do is keep Draco confined to the living room. He had done nothing about the pictures in the hall to the kitchen or dining room. The pictures he had banished were now sitting on his bed upstairs. A pulse of heat radiated in his groin in the thought that they could technically go to his bed. Now they couldn't. Not with the pictures there. Harry tried not to feel disappointed.

The fire turned green once more just as Harry was setting a plate of sandwiches and drinks on the coffee table. It was not much of a dinner, but it was all he had on such short notice. Moments later, Draco spiralled out of the fire and brushed himself off. Harry stared at Draco thinking it so surreal that after so long a time, his husband was brushing the soot off his clothes in _his_ living room.

"So much for showering," Draco smirked and toed off his shoes on the hearth. "Nice place you have here," he gave it a cursory glance before advancing around the couch to Harry. Only then did Harry notice that Draco had showered before coming over. He had been so busy with getting things in order he had not noticed that almost twenty minutes had passed. But suddenly, it did not matter how much time had passed, because Draco was hugging him. Harry melted against him, his nose coming to rest in Draco's damp hair.

"I was nervous about coming back to England, but I'm glad I did."

Harry paused in rubbing his hand down Draco's back and pulled slightly away. "Wait, you can't Floo across the ocean. How did you get here?"

"There is a special Floo network you can use, but it only takes you to one place in London. Then you can either Apparate or Floo out of a regular fireplace."

Of course, Harry could not let Draco know that Harry knew what that meant. Draco would have had to go through more trouble to get here than he even considered. Draco thought that he was fugitive, so would have used a glamour. Surely if Kingsley knew that Draco was gone, he would be furious. Suddenly this whole thing seemed exciting and dumb, and Harry _knew_ it was stupid to have Draco here, but with the blond in his arms, it did not seem so very important.

"I made you some sandwiches if you're still hungry," he said instead of voicing his thoughts.

Draco looked up at him in surprise. "You did? That's… you didn't have to, Harry."

Harry shrugged. He had not thought anything of it. It was natural for him to do little things like that for Draco. "It was nothing."

"You're sweet," Draco smiled and tilted his head up so as to kiss Harry.

Afterwards, Harry directed them to the couch and pulled the plate of sandwiches nearer to them. Draco grabbed one with a small smile towards Harry and bit off a large chunk. Harry poured two glasses of wine and sat back to watch him. With some difficulty, Draco swallowed and leaned into the cushions. "Roast beef," he murmured and turned to look at Harry. "My favourite in sandwiches, you know."

"Really? I didn't know."

Harry smirked.

"It's delicious. Did you make the meat?"

"All by myself. We had it for dinner tonight." Hermione had helped with the vegetables but Harry had dealt with the meat and potatoes. Cooking was about the only thing he enjoyed doing in the home.

The pair fell silent as Draco worked his way through two of the sandwiches. Harry helped himself to one when Draco kept exclaiming how delicious the meat was, and wondered for himself if he had missed something. He concluded that it tasted all right. Draco must be trying to pet his ego.

"I wonder if there is anything you can't do well," Draco pondered as he sipped his wine.

"I'm not bloody perfect," Harry frowned.

"I'm not suggesting you are," Draco scooted closer, pushing himself against Harry's side so that Harry would wrap an arm around him. "It's just that I know you're good at a lot of things, Harry. I haven't yet heard of one you're not good at."

"I'm crap at Divination, and Potions for that matter. Snape hated me, of course."

Draco looked at him. "You know Snape?"

"Any Hogwarts student of the past twenty odd years does, I suspect," Harry smirked. "Why, do you know him personally, or something?"

"Oh," Draco shook his head. "I think I've been away too long. Of course you know him. And no… no, I don't know him personally."

Harry nodded, but he was sure Draco was lying, unless Narcissa wiped his memory of Snape as well. However, he doubted that very much. "Anyway, I think I've found another thing that you do well."

"My cooking?"

Draco chuckled. "No, we already confirmed that was good. I meant that picture of the baby. She must be yours?"

Harry swung his head around to where he had left a picture of Ayida from when she was ten months old. He had figured that any picture of her from when she was that young would do no harm. She had looked like Draco, sure, but he did not think Draco would be able to tell. "That's Ayida," he nodded.

"She's beautiful. So, that's another thing you do well, you make pretty babies."

"Yes, well… I think it was her father, not me who gave her those looks."

Draco backed away so as to look at him better. "You've never talked about that before. I always assumed it was a woman."

"No, it was a man." Harry refused to look away from the picture.

"Can I ask where he is now?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry looked to his lap, a deep pain twisting inside him. _You_, his mind screamed. _You're right here! _"I was told he died… by suicide."

"Oh," Draco expelled a breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Look I just don't want to talk about it right now. Maybe some other time, all right?"

Draco looked disappointed, but he nodded. "Let's watch this television, then, unless you're too tired. I could leave."

Harry strengthened his hold of Draco's shoulders. "No, I want you to stay."

So the two burrowed down into the cushions of the couch and watched the show that was currently playing. Harry had no idea what it was, and honestly was quite bored with it, but he was sure that he was sitting on the remote and did not want to move from his position. After just a few minutes, Harry found that he had moved his nose to Draco's hair and was gently rubbing his shoulder. Draco had begun squirming slightly against Harry's side, clearly not into the programme at all. He never had been into watching anything anyway.

"It's a boring programme," Harry murmured, his breath coming back at him from the side of Draco's head. He kissed his head.

"I dreamt about you last night," Draco smoothed his hand over Harry's stomach. "Do you want to know what you were doing?" Harry leaned down and kissed behind Draco's ear. Draco expelled a breath.

"Very much."

"You had your shirt off, but it was cold where we were and you had goosebumps all over. We were both looking for your shirt, and every time we found one and you put it on, it would disappear again. Finally, you got so annoyed that…" He stopped speaking for a moment as Harry had taken to gently nibbling on his ear lobe. "You got so annoyed that," his voice was breathless, "that you made me touch your nipples to warm them up. When I touched them, we were suddenly on a beach and you were completely naked. You didn't have your glasses on and…" Harry bit down on Draco's neck. "Oh," Draco's voice wavered, his hips jumping up. Harry smiled against him and soothed it with his tongue. "No glasses… and your hand was…. It was going down my trousers. Your other hand was on your prick. It was so…."

The blond swore colourfully, sliding effortlessly into Harry's lap, roughly pushing his head back as he kissed him. A moan rattled in Draco's throat, his hips jutted against Harry. Harry reached around and pulled Draco nearer, kissing deeper, a moan building in his own throat.

Harry felt Draco's fingers grappling at the hem of his shirt and lifted his arms. Soon their shirts were thrown in opposite directions and then they were struggling with their trousers. Harry began turning them over so he could be on top, his groin burning and his mind alight with the thought of entering Draco. Draco began to awkwardly shimmy out of his trousers as their mouths were still connected, and Harry reached between them, hand shaking as he rubbed his palm against Draco's erection. Draco pulled back with a whimpering moan, and their eyes met. Harry suddenly remembered with startling clarity exactly how Draco liked to be touched, exactly the pressure he liked, and so he squeezed Draco and stroked. As Harry looked back to Draco's face, he saw that his eyes were wide and unblinking on Harry's face as if he had just had a startling revelation.

Fuck, Harry hoped he had.

After a minute of keeping a slow and steady pace, Draco pushed Harry's hand away and then wiped sweat from his eye. "Keep that up for about five more seconds and I'll be finished before we start," Draco panted. Harry kissed him with a smile. "Fuck!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his head back against the cushions. "Are you particularly experienced in wanking, or do you just know what I like?"

Harry smirked and leaned his face in as close as he could get before their eyes went out of focus. "Do you want to know my secret?" Draco merely nodded. "I just know what you want. I know where to touch you. I know when to squeeze and how hard. I also know you hate rough hands. I know everything about you."

Draco swallowed. "You're creeping me out."

Again, Harry smirked. "But you know everything about me as well. It's in here," he tapped the side of Draco's head. "And here." He tapped Draco's chest, just over his heart. "Don't think tonight. Just do it. You know me."

Draco was blinking up at him in mild astonishment. Harry knew that he probably thought he was a little off his rocker, and to be quite honest, Harry thought he just may have gone a little mad. However, Draco suddenly threw his arms around Harry's neck and they kissed frantically. Harry squirmed out of his trousers and finally pressed his bare body against Draco's. The longer they kissed, the more desperate Harry became. His hands roamed over Draco's body, marking territory he had long ago lost. He began to press his body harder against Draco's as he probed his fingers against Draco's backside. Harry hardly noticed that Draco was tensing and getting scared until he let out a whimper of fear. Not until Harry looked at the blonde's face did he realise what was the matter.

"Oh," Harry breathed, bringing his hands up to stroke Draco's face. "It's just me," he whispered, and brought his mouth to Draco's cheek. "It's just me. You're safe with me. I promise." The simple fact that Draco could remember what Voldemort had put him through made the back of Harry's throat tighten. It was not fair that Narcissa had erased something so _good_ from her son's mind, but had left something so horrible. "It's just Harry," he continued to soothe. "You're safe."

Finally, Draco turned his eyes to Harry. "I'm sorry." Harry shook his head to dismiss it. He wondered if Draco could remember his therapy sessions with Healer Adina at all. After all, Harry had been at every single one of them. Draco had not been frightened like this for a couple years before he disappeared. "I don't want you to stop really," Draco whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he grasped Harry closer to him. "I need this. I need to not think… like you said. I'll be fine. I need you."

Harry nodded. He did not want to waste anymore time. He scrambled for his wand, which was in his trousers, and prepared Draco with it. When Harry pushed in, Draco's eyes never left his, and he wound his legs tightly around Harry's waist. Throughout it all, they watched each other; they did not think; they did not let a moan fall silent; they did not let a thrust go unmet. After a few minutes, Harry grabbed at Draco's legs and bent his knees against his chest, keeping a firm grip on his thighs. Draco mewled at the change in position and reached for his erection. Harry felt a moan rattle in his throat and pushed harder, watching Draco throw his head back, his neck expose itself, his Adam's apple bobbing, his tongue darting out to lick his lips….

"You're perfect," Harry grunted. "You're so _fucking_ perfect." Draco, whose eyes had drifted closed, looked up at him again. "I _want_ you."

"I _am_ yours, Harry," Draco whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm only yours." Then he cried out and Harry watched him shudder and gasp.

"Oh!" Harry cried with one last push and opened his mouth in a silent scream.

Some minutes later when Harry's heartbeat had returned back to normal, he realised that Draco was trembling beneath him. Harry swallowed several times, attempting to get his mouth wet again, as it had gone strangely dry. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Draco answered. Too quickly, Harry thought.

"Yes, there is. You're shaking. And your heart is still going fast… Kalen. What is it?"

"I can't explain it."

"Just try to say it."

"You'll think I'm stupid."

"No, I won't. Just come out with it. You can trust me."

"Drop it, Harry," Draco snapped. "I don't want to talk about it."

Harry swallowed. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Draco lifted his head to study Harry's face. His features contorted oddly when their eyes met and Draco shifted his eyes to Harry's chest. "No, I'm sorry. I just… I wasn't thinking… like you said to do, and however I did it…." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'm saying. Let's just not talk right now."

"I can do that," Harry replied, wondering why Draco could not look him in the eye for more than a few seconds. What had happened inside that head? Harry lifted his chin and kissed him. He noticed that the blond was still trembling, but he returned the kiss with equal care, their lips hardly touching as their tongues sought each other out. _I love you_, Harry thought fiercely, hands clutching at Draco's sides, as if Draco would be able to understand that way.

Draco pulled away first so as to get more comfortable. Harry shifted, realising his chest and legs felt sticky and sweaty. Draco grappled for his wand and cleaned them both up, and together they shifted so that they fitted snug and comfortable on the couch. With a wave of his hand, Harry summoned a blanket and covered them. Harry's back was pressed against the back of the couch, Draco's head ensconced in his shoulder and arm. "It's been a long day," Harry yawned.

"Go to sleep then."

"You're not going to leave while I sleep, are you?" Harry blinked down at him.

"I hadn't planned on it, but now that you mention it," Draco grinned.

Over the next few minutes before Harry fell asleep, Draco seemed all right again as they quietly exchanged comfortable banter. So when they finally fell silent, Harry had no trouble falling into sleep, his face smiling, and his chest brimming with silent giddiness.

In fact, when Draco asked Harry a question, he would answer, but never remember in the morning because he was so relaxed, and his dreams were already filled with Draco.

"Harry, do you have an Invisibility cloak?"

"Yeah… it's upstairs."

Light was streaming through the windows, and the smell of eggs was floating from the kitchen. Draco shifted on the couch, hazily realising that he was alone and dressed in his boxers and shirt. Blinking, he turned his head to look outside. Snow was placidly falling, and he blinked harder attempting to remember where he was. He had not seen snow since his adventure in the Himalayas over a year ago. Then he heard a man's low timbre coming from the direction of the kitchen and a shiver ran down his spine.

Harry.

"Me don't wanna go back, daddy!" exclaimed a child's voice.

Draco sat up. That would explain why he now had clothes on. Quickly summoning his trousers and sliding them on, Draco inched toward the sound of the voices. He was uncertain of what he should do. He could leave a note and just Floo back to London without seeing Harry until he got back to San Juan. Then again, he could go in the other room, meet Harry's daughter…. After all, what would the harm be? He and Harry could say goodbye. Yes, Draco thought, he wanted to see Harry again before he left.

"I know you want to stay with me, but I told you yesterday, daddy has things to do, sweetie," Harry was saying as Draco drew towards the entrance. A smile tugged at Draco's mouth, and his heart began to pound against his chest. He stopped and leaned against the wall. _Fuck, if I'm not careful, I might start to like him, _Draco thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Remember, I said I'll call you every day I'm gone." Ayida said something he could not catch and Harry laughed. Draco swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat.

_Steady on, Draco_, he thought nervously. _It's okay to like him. _Just don't _fall for him. It will never work out. Not for me. _

His eyes moved to the wall, a picture catching his eye. It was of two men, both holding a small child between them, so that she sat on their forearms. He recognised both of them. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. He wondered how Harry knew them so well.

Finally, Draco tore his eyes away from the picture and slowly moved around the corner. Harry was sitting at the head of the short table eating toast, a small blonde haired girl to his right. Harry looked up, his face first conveying unease, but then he smiled. "Good morning, Kalen. Sit down. I'll get you something to eat. Do you want coffee or tea? Maybe juice? I have orange."

_I really have to get a new name next time I move, _Draco thought. "Morning, Harry." He turned to look at Ayida, a jolt of amazement running down his spine. One thing he was sure of was that he knew the father, though he could not put a finger on exactly who it might be. "Coffee, please," he said faintly, weakly sitting in the chair across from Ayida. Ayida was staring back at him with equal disquiet, though hers was more confusion compared to Draco's shock.

"Fadder?" she burst out, looking at Draco for a few moments as though waiting for an answer, and finally, when she did not get one, looked to Harry. Draco followed her lead and looked at him. Harry looked as though he were ready to vomit. He was staring at Ayida, his eyes red-rimmed. Draco was sure they had not been moments before.

"Yes, Ayida?" Harry responded, his voice sounding choked, not at all like himself.

Draco blinked. "Fadder?" she said again, her voice now quite agitated. When Harry did not answer – Draco thought he looked at a loss as to how to even speak the English language – Ayida huffed and ran from the table.

The table was silent for quite a long while before Harry sighed. "She's upset with me. That's all. Your coffee is going to get cold." Draco blinked and looked down, not having realised that Harry must have summoned his breakfast and coffee at some point. He took a nervous drink. As far as Draco knew, there was really nobody in the English wizarding world with hair colour like that. Except for the Malfoys. What had Harry said? His partner had committed suicide?

A thought flashed past Draco's mind, and it was so ridiculous, so far-fetched that Draco laughed aloud. Harry frowned, but then Draco was talking. "Did you know Lucius Malfoy?" Harry's frown turned into astonishment.

"W… what?"

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"I… I've heard of him. I never met him though. I know he was a Death Eater when he died, but that's all." Harry looked pale and sickly.

"Do you know how he died?" Draco was sidetracked.

Clearing his throat, Harry shifted in his chair. "Murdered in his dungeons at Malfoy Manor. He was holding two Hogwarts students captive for Voldemort. The students… they got the upper hand one night and one of them killed Malfoy. He didn't really mean to though," he hurried to clarify.

Draco was stopped from asking any other questions when Ayida returned with a picture in her hand. She headed right for Harry and handed him it. "Fadder!" she said again, only now it was almost a shout. Draco watched as Harry swallowed nervously. He slipped the photo into an inner pocket on his robes.

"Ayida let me take you to the potty. You haven't gone yet this morning, have you?"

"No, Daddy!" she stomped her foot. "Fadder!"

"I'll be right back, Kalen." Harry swung her up into his arms and left the room in a hurry. Draco stared after him perplexed. He felt stupid after thinking that Harry could have possibly had an affair with his father. He laughed again. Then again, Ayida looked so much like a member of his family. Of course it was just a coincidence. It was impossible for it to be anything but. After all, if Harry somehow had known Draco, he would have said something the minute they met. Harry would have recognised him for being a Malfoy.

Yet, he could not help but feel like he was missing something. Draco clutched the mug handle in his left hand and cupped the side of the cup with his right. 'Weasley Makes 'Em Better!' Draco read on the side. There was a painted picture of two identical men on the side. They sent something fiery above their heads and the letters exploded and went out of order. Draco felt the liquid inside the mug become warm again. A sense of nostalgia washed over him and he closed his eyes. He saw Harry behind his lids with the mug, a frown on his face. Harry poked one of the men and his hair started on fire. Harry began to swear, though Draco could not hear him and started patting his head. He kept staring at Draco, yelling for him, and finally, Draco could feel a laugh bubble in his throat and he went to help. When Draco opened his eyes, both he and Harry had been laughing, but Draco felt no smile on his lips. He set the mug down in consternation, his hands shaking hard.

"Careful with that mug," Harry entered the room again without Ayida. "It set my hair on fire once."

Draco snapped his head around. "What?" he asked sharply.

"Yeah," Harry picked the mug up. "I poked that one there…. I think that's George Weasley, and it set my hair on fire. Quite amusing _after_ we got the fire out."

"_We_?" Draco croaked. He was sure he was going insane.

Harry frowned, beginning to clean up the mess of breakfast. "Yeah. My boyfriend and I."

Draco nodded, feeling a little too unsettled. Perhaps he should have just left a note after all. "Listen," Harry began as he came back from the kitchen. "I already brought Ayida to her grandparents' house, and I have a portkey here to San Juan. Why don't you take it back with me? It should be activating in about twenty minutes."

Draco nodded jerkily, but did not look up. Harry blew out a breath and nodded. "Okay, well… I'll just go grab a few things I left last time. The portkey is in the living room, so if you want to wait in there for me…."

It seemed stupid to defy something Harry suggested just because he was confused. However, it was difficult not to just continue sitting there like an obstinate child, when that's all he wanted to do after that breakfast. As Draco walked past Harry, Harry grabbed his elbow and leaned in close. "I just want you to know that if you don't ask, I'm not going to tell you. So if you have questions, ask." Harry looked earnestly into his eyes. "My life is complicated, and I do want you to be a part of it. You'll understand later why I can't offer it without you asking."

"I get it," Draco said shortly and left the room. He did not want Harry to notice how very unsettled he really was.

A half hour later, the two men were taking the lift up to Draco's flat in San Juan. The small area was stifling in its silence, a thick physical space between them. Draco could not seem to get rid of the tremble in his body, and did not know if letting Harry touch him would help or not. Whatever Harry was hiding, it was big, and Draco could not shake the feeling that it would affect him in some way. Not after seeing his daughter. Draco thought of Ayida as they entered his flat. He thought of her flyaway hair, her round, green eyes, her long nose, her perfect bow-shaped lips, her thin face, even of her voice.

Ayida.

_Bloody hell_, Draco swallowed, glancing at Harry. _She's perfect. _

It was funny, really, how Harry had named his daughter Ayida when Draco had always rather liked that name. What a coincidence.

She looked like a Malfoy. The resemblance to the Malfoy family was uncanny. That was yet another remarkable coincidence.

A coincidence is all that it was. Surely.

"What time is it here?" Harry yawned.

"Two in the morning," Draco opened his mouth in a yawn.

Harry shifted uncertainly. "Well… perhaps I should just go back to the hotel to get a few more hours of sleep." He started to turn, but Draco grabbed his arm before he could really think things through.

"Stay. If you want to. Stay."

"Really?" Harry turned hopeful eyes to him. "I… you wouldn't mind?"

"I'd rather not be alone right now if it's all the same to you." Harry nodded stepping towards him eagerly. "Let's go to bed then," Draco smiled faintly, tugging on Harry's arm.

They had each shed their shirts by the time they made it to the bed and were kissing lazily. However, as soon as they entered the shelter of blankets, they snuggled down close, Draco firmly ensconced within Harry's arms, and were closing their eyes. Draco's breathing was evening out when Harry put his mouth to his ear and whispered into it. "Kalen, I just… everything is going to be fine soon. I promise." He firmly kissed Draco's cheek. Draco snuggled closer to him in his near-sleep. "You have no idea how much I love you, Draco."

Draco snorted and jerked. "Wha'? Harry, did you say something?"

Harry kissed below his ear. "I said to sleep well."

"Oh," Draco smiled sleepily and threw his arm over Harry's side. "I really like you, Harry. We should…." He paused to yawn, pressing his face into Harry's chest. "We should have more sex tomorrow and then…."

He trailed off and smacking his lips, fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks to everybody who has reviewed and of course, my beta Padfoot's Bitch.

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Eight  
Punch-Drunk Day_

Kingsley leaned back in his chair and scratched his head with a sigh. The past seven hours had been stressful. Draco Malfoy had disappeared from their radars and nobody knew what had happened to him. When, just a half hour earlier, Draco had showed up at his flat with Harry in tow, Kingsley had called it a night for all his Aurors and sent them to bed. It was a rare thing on any case for all Aurors to be sent to bed at once, but everybody was wearing thin, and Kingsley knew that with Harry, Draco would be all right.

It was odd. Kingsley was sure that Harry had said he was going back home for the day. Could that be where Draco had gone, to England of all places? Again, he sighed. It did not matter at the moment. Nothing had been compromised. He could rest. He was just standing to leave when the door flew open and Harry Potter stumbled in, his clothes rumpled and his glasses crooked. His hair was a mess as well, but Kingsley could not say if Harry had just brushed it or tumbled out of bed. However, what made Kingsley alarmed was the clearly nauseous look Harry sported. He hurried to Harry and led him to a chair in case he might be sick.

"Is something wrong, Potter?"

Harry shook his head violently. "It's not an emergency, if that's what you're thinking. I just… I think I made a really big mistake this morning… tonight…." Harry frowned. "Fuck! It was morning in England, that's all I know. Kingsley, I wasn't thinking. Last night I was at my house and Draco called me. He wanted to come see me and I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, because I thought he would leave after a couple hours. But we ended up sleeping on the couch."

Kingsley backed away shaking his head. "Do not tell me he saw somebody that would let him make the connection."

Harry did not seem to hear him. Kingsley felt annoyed, but felt he should let Harry say whatever he needed. It was obvious he was distressed about it. "It's just that… when I woke up with him it was so natural. After all this time, it's still natural to wake up with him. I mean, he _is_ my husband after all. Of course it would be, right? I heard Ayida moving around upstairs so I…well, made ourselves presentable." Harry blushed. "Draco was still sleeping. _Anyway_, I didn't even think about it. I don't know why! I should have! Ayida came downstairs and I told her that she had to be quiet because a guest was sleeping on the couch. So we went into the kitchen and I made her breakfast, and we were eating, I still didn't think much of the fact that _Draco_ was sleeping on my couch. But then he came in the room and I realized what it would mean. Ayida looks so much like him! And Ayida knows exactly who he is. I've made sure of it, Kingsley! She's so smart, and she recognized him of course. I tried playing it off, but he's suspicious now. I know he is and I'm sorry, but I don't know what to do now!"

The Auror slumped back into his chair with a sigh, rubbing his bald head harshly. "Okay. Just tell me what happened when he came in."

Over the next five minutes, Harry told the story of how Draco and Ayida interacted for the brief moments that they were allowed, Ayida's reaction, Draco's questions about Lucius, everything. He ended with how uneasy Draco seemed as he left the dining room, and how distant he was up until they went back to bed.

At the end of the story, Kingsley was quiet, mulling over everything. It was not a good thing that had happened. Draco should never have seen Ayida, but it was done and could not be fixed. Normally in a situation such as this, somebody would obliviate Draco, but considering the situation it clearly was not appropriate.

"Tell me then, Harry. You know Draco better than anybody on my team of Aurors. What do you think Draco is thinking?"

Harry fidgeted in his chair, running his fingers through knotted hair, and then attempting to smooth out wrinkles in his shirt. "I… it's hard to say really. He's changed, yet he hasn't. And well… first of all, I think he's suspicious of Ayida, and consequently of me. I think he sees a resemblance in her. Maybe not to him exactly, but to somebody he knows obviously. I mean, he doesn't know that I'm his husband. Why should he make the connection that Ayida is his?"

"My thoughts exactly," Kingsley nodded.

"Right. So… that gives us a little time, I think."

"For what?" Kingsley needled, though he had a good idea what Harry was about to say.

"Well, I think that seeing Ayida heightened his interest enough in me now that he'll try to figure out who her father is."

"And if he finds your information, he finds himself," Kingsley finished. He got up and started pacing in front of Harry. "It makes perfect sense."

"Yes, it does, and I can't let that happen! Don't get me wrong, I want him to know, but I can't let him find out from anybody other than me!" Harry took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the patterns on the floor. "I can't!" his voice shook, yet it was firm. "He would hate me."

"There is a way, Harry, to stop it from happening. Did you happen to get a tracking charm on him yet?"

"I… yes, I put one on him before I left," Harry nodded.

"Good. Then we'll heighten the watch on him. If he goes anywhere to search for you in any sort of media, he won't find what he's looking for." Kingsley stopped and stared at Harry until he looked up. "I promise you that, Harry. He won't find out from somebody else through a fault in my team. But now, Harry I think you should go and get some rest. Let me worry about what's happened, all right? You need to be on your best for him, I think." He attempted a smile. It was lucky Harry was not looking at him because it came out as more of a grimace.

"Yeah… yeah, you're right, Kingsley. Good night, then. And… I'm really sorry about this."

"It's nothing, Harry. Good night."

Deep in the recesses of his mind, Kingsley knew that sending Harry back to England would be the best action he could take in this whole investigation. However, as he watched Harry walk dejectedly out of the room, he knew he could never do such a thing. He had always liked Harry ever since they had met. He was not above wanting Harry's happiness.

Moreover, Kingsley knew that virtually the entire wizarding world would agree with his decision. Harry Potter was their soft spot, and Harry Potter's soft spot was clearly Draco Malfoy. This was the reason Kingsley was certain Narcissa Malfoy would be put away for life. The wizarding world did not want their soft spot hit again.

For the second time that day, Draco woke up to bright morning light. Only this time, the sun was shining hot and clear. He blinked his eyes in bewilderment, wondering what day it was and what time. His body felt heavy with fatigue with the interrupted sleep he had experienced and the dreams he had had in his second bout of sleep were sticking with him. There were images of a young Harry Potter (Draco was sure of it, as Harry's face had changed little). In each dream, Draco was sure he hated the very air Harry breathed, his own thoughts vindictive and cunning, and intent on causing Harry torment in every way possible. Draco attempted to blink these dreams away as the feeling of utter hatred was staying with him, almost as if he actually hated Harry. It was disorienting as Draco's body clearly thought differently.

Draco peeked under the blankets at his morning problem, and smiling, rolled onto his other side looking for Harry. However, there was nobody there. The bed was cold and nothing but a note lay on Harry's pillow.

_Kalen, _

_I couldn't sleep, so I'm going out for a walk. I know I probably won't be able to get back in without you, so I'll say good night and good morning here. I know I will probably regret my decision to leave when I have to climb into bed alone, but I'll deal with that later. _

_Tomorrow, I'll stay at the hotel. I can't think of anything to do, and I would just like to spend most of my time with you anyway. So, whenever you feel like it, stop by. I'll wait. _

_Sincerely yours,  
Harry_

_P.S. You're a cuddler. I had a very hard time extricating myself from you. Don't worry. I didn't mind. _

Draco rolled onto his back, stretching his limbs out, his hand clutching the note tightly. A smile was beginning to creep onto his face, his thoughts firmly wrapped around Harry. The scenes he had dreamed in his sleep were fading into the background, and they no longer seemed important. Even the events that had taken place in Harry's dining room were fading in precedence. Draco knew it was important not to forget about Ayida and her parentage, but decided it was okay to forget about it for the moment. Instead, he let his hand snake beneath the covers and boxers. He had barely started when an owl flew in an open window with a howler in its beak.

Swearing, Draco removed his hand from his boxers and sat up, shooing the owl back out the window. The howler was from his mother, a rare occurrence. She had sent him one other howler in his life, and only because he had accidentally burned half of his bedroom before returning to Hogwarts when he was twelve years old.

"I'VE RISKED FAR TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO BE RECKLESS, DRACO!" the letter screamed at him as soon as he tore it in half, hoping it would dull the noise. On the contrary, it seemed to make it louder. The letter seemed to be over, a fact that confused Draco. What had he done?

Just then, another owl swooped in with an envelope tied to her leg. Draco tore it open and found a small newspaper article with an even smaller picture. He brought it nearer to his face and gasped. It was of him at the Floo Centre in London. In the picture, he threw powder into the fire and disappeared from sight. "Fuck," Draco blew out a breath. Exactly how long had he been in that building? It could not have been more than two minutes. Two minutes too long, he thought dismally. What were the chances that somebody had a camera?

_Pretty fucking good,_ he rolled his eyes. A Floo Centre was, of course filled with tourists. There was a good chance that there was an England native who recognised him. He scrolled his eyes to the article. Clearly, it was not the entire article, but it was enough for Draco to understand. He had been spotted, though they were not sure if it was somebody impersonating him or not. Draco snickered. Why would somebody want to impersonate him? The imbeciles. Onlookers had heard his destination. Harry Potter's house.

"What a ridiculous insinuation," a friend of Potter's commented outside of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. "To insinuate that _Draco Malfoy_ would be using a public Floo network to get to Harry's house…. It's preposterous. It's far-fetched. I just hope Harry doesn't read this stupid article. Of course, he would probably set you straight, he would."

"Hear, hear," Draco whispered. Who knew what else the article would say about him? Thievery? Murder? Something worse? He shook his head. He had to get that ridiculous notion from his head. Matthew had said that he had not committed any crime.

The blond jumped from bed, grabbed a shirt that was slung over the footboard and pulled it on. The shirt had many wrinkles, but he hardly cared as he hurried into the living room and vaulted over the couch to get to the fireplace. He threw in some Floo powder, called his destination and stuck his head in. At the other end the room was silent and had hardly any decoration. The walls were white and there was just a couch and a small table in front of it.

"Hello!" he called. "Anybody home?"

Moments later, pounding footsteps came running towards the fireplace and Matthew Pickleworms came into sight. He seemed to be in the middle of pulling his shirt off whilst trying to maintain holding onto his broomstick. His face was dripping in sweat and pink in the cheeks, and as he kneeled, Draco noticed he was slightly out of breath.

"Draco! I… well, this is a surprise. I'm sorry…" Matthew pushed his arm back through his sleeve and pulled the hem of his shirt down again. "I just came in from flying." He looked down at his broom, smiled ruefully and set it down. "What's the occasion?"

"Have you seen the _Prophet_?"

"Of course," Matthew settled onto the floor. "What on earth were you thinking, you complete wanker? You could have at least used a glamour charm."

"I was there for two minutes!" Draco exclaimed. "I didn't think somebody would think to snap a picture of me. Besides, you told me I am not a fugitive of any sort. What does it matter?"

"You're dead, remember?"

"Right," Draco nodded. "It's difficult to get my head around that one," he attempted to smile. "Listen, have you found anything out?"

Matthew bit his lip, his eyes regretful. "No, I haven't. I'm doing all I can, but I've had work and a lot of other things going on."

"No, you don't have to apologise. I just… the reason I'm calling isn't because of what you've found. It's about what _I've_ found."

"Oh?" Matthew shifted uncomfortably. "What's that?"

"I saw Harry's daughter when I was there," Draco blurted. "You know him better than I do. Do you know who the father is?"

"Draco," the other man sighed, "you're asking a lot of me to betray Harry."

"But you wouldn't be betraying him," Draco insisted. "Honestly. It can't be that big of a deal to tell me who he was."

"This isn't my place to tell you. If Harry hasn't said anything yet, then he's not ready for you to know. He'll tell you on his own time."

"Fine! But, Matthew, don't you think it odd that Harry doesn't recognise me the way you did? For God's sakes, he knew who my father was! Most people know what Lucius Malfoy looked like, don't they? Especially if he was one of Harry's enemies, surely Harry would take the care to know what he looks like."

"Where are you going with this, Draco?"

"Fuck, Matt!" Draco jerked his head to the side hard enough to almost be pulled back to his own flat. He quickly leaned forward again. "Where do you _think_ I'm going with it? If Harry knew what my father looked like, then he would see the resemblance. I do look somewhat like him," he finished sarcastically. "Don't you think it's weird?"

"No. Maybe if your hair was still really blond, than yes, maybe I would think it was weird. But the fact of the matter is, is that it's not."

"_I don't look that different!_" Draco shouted.

"Calm down, Draco. I can't begin to tell you why Harry would not be able to make a connection. It's just…" He looked away for a moment as though searching for the perfect words. "If he's not looking for anything, he's not going to see it. If you want him to know so badly, why don't you point out how much you look like your father?"

"I don't feel comfortable giving out my real name."

"Yet you hate being called Kalen. I'm willing to bet you flinch nearly every time Harry calls you it."

"I… it doesn't sound right coming from him."

"It wouldn't," Matthew said under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked sharply. When Matthew shrugged Draco sighed irritably. "Never mind. Anything that could possibly come out of your mouth wouldn't pass as an answer anyway. I just want to know, Matthew. I want to know about Ayida."

"You know what I think, Draco? I think you should stop thinking about it so much. If Harry thinks you need to know, he'll tell you. Just stop worrying about it, all right?"

"Well, you'll forgive me that I can't completely stop worrying about it when I'm starting to think that you and Harry are in on this entire thing. Whatever _it_ may be."

"Draco…."

"I can see I've wasted my time calling you. See you around, Matthew."

Draco pulled back into his flat, more frustrated than before. How was he supposed to figure out anything if nobody would give him a straight answer? Then again, maybe he was looking too far into everything. The world was a big place, wasn't it? Surely Harry could have found somebody with the same features as a Malfoy. But what were the chances?

Then again, what were the chances that Matthew had shown up at the gym Draco routinely worked out at? What were the chances of Harry Potter showing up weeks after to Matthew's hotel room? What were the chances that Harry would want to stay in San Juan and spend all his bloody time with _him_? Why would he choose Draco? More importantly, why would Harry tell his daughter that he had things to do away from home when all he really was doing was spending time with Draco? What made him so much more important than his own bloody daughter?

Draco shook his head to clear it. Those questions did not even scratch the surface of what he had begun to wonder. For instance, why would he dream of a young, adolescent Harry Potter, and why should he hate him so?

Draco swore colourfully and went into the bathroom. "_I don't know_!" he shouted, turning on the shower. "Quit asking questions I can't get answers to!"

Half an hour later, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes, Draco entered the street below and walked in the direction of Harry's hotel. His ire at being so kept in the dark by virtually everybody he knew rose with each passing minute, and the second Harry's hotel came into sight, rage like none other rose within his chest just waiting to be let out. Then he saw Harry exiting the building, so very clean, pink in the face, and wearing shorts.

Draco stopped in his tracks, his heart suddenly in his throat pushing against his rage, apparently intent on winning the battle for the space. "His knees," Draco almost giggled. His heart skipped. "They're so… I really like them," he sighed, and mentally hit himself. It was not common knowledge to him that he had a thing for knobbly knees. _Pathetic_, he scolded himself.

Harry looked over at him then and his entire face lit up. "Kalen!"

Again, the rage boiled up, but his heart attempted to push it aside as it started to beat erratically. "Harry," Draco swallowed, trying to gain some sort of control over himself again. He tried to tell himself that he did not like the fact that Harry was so presumptuous as to nearly run to him, looking for the entire world like he was going to hug him. However, his suddenly weak knees told him different. Draco tried to keep hold of the rage inside. He knew it was important if he ever wanted answers. He tried to say something productive, something that would stop Harry in his tracks.

"You left me alone last night!" he cried out indignantly. And Harry did stop, but only for a second to grant him a huge grin. Draco frowned at himself. _Of all the things you could have said, _that's _all you have to say for yourself, Draco? Pathetic. _

Harry practically jumped on him, his hug nearly strangling the air from Draco, but it did not matter. Suddenly, the rage was dissipating just as fast as Harry had bounded at him. "I'm sorry. I really am," Harry whispered, his hands running all over Draco's back and his face pressing behind his ear. "Would you believe it if I said I missed you?"

Draco almost whimpered. He was only a little mad now. "Prove it," he found himself saying.

When Harry kissed him, Draco whimpered again and it was desperate, because suddenly he was desperate to have Harry touching him all the time, and he could not _believe_ how much he had missed this, and _oh, God_, he was so scared Harry would die again and leave Draco all alone.

But suddenly Harry was pulling away and his eyes were wide and alarmed, but Draco was too annoyed to wonder why. Harry was not supposed to _stop_. "What did you say?" Harry whispered.

"Nothing," Draco frowned. "I was too busy kiss…." That was not right. Suddenly he remembered. He had pulled back for just a moment. He had said, "Please don't leave me again, Harry." He had kissed Harry briefly and then said, "I was so scared when you were gone." He had whimpered and kissed him again. "And the blood… it wouldn't come out…."

Draco tore away from Harry stumbling backwards. "I didn't say anything!" he exclaimed, his own eyes now wide.

"Yes, you did!" Harry cried coming towards him again. "You said something! Why would you say that? Tell me why!"

"I don't know!" Draco grabbed his head. It was throbbing. "I don't know why I would say something like that, okay, Harry?"

"What were you feeling?"

"Why does that matter!" Draco screamed. He was angry again and he did not know why.

"Please, tell me what you were feeling?"

Draco stared at him, reading the hope that shone in Harry's eyes, and feeling the defeat in his own shoulders. "Desperation," he whispered. "I felt desperate. I was scared you were going to die again and leave me. But I don't know why, so don't ask, Harry! _I don't know_!"

Harry seemed to take a few steadying breaths. "Okay…. Okay, I won't ask, because, because…. Okay, so… Kalen, you need to calm down all right?" Draco was breathing fast; his head felt dizzy and was pounding relentlessly. Harry approached him cautiously, carefully hugging his head to his shoulder. "Here's an idea… we'll go have breakfast together. We'll have a nice cup of tea. We can talk, or we won't, whatever makes you feel better, okay?" He gently rubbed the back of Draco's head.

"That's fine," Draco said quietly. "Just… let's just stay like this for a little bit. You make me feel better."

There was no understanding it. Where Harry was making him hyperventilate a moment before, he was now calming him. Just by touching him, Draco felt better. He rubbed the small of Harry's back. Harry kissed the top of his head.

"It seems we've attracted a little crowd here," Harry said quietly. "Reckon it's time to go then?"

Draco looked around and coloured. A small crowd of onlookers were beginning to disperse. "Let's go," he said quietly, his feeling of dizzying discontent still not gone, and his headache pounding harder than ever.

They held hands tightly as they walked to the nearest café. Draco felt the oddest sensation of fright when they let go and pressed in on as much of Harry's walking space as he could. As they disappeared into a quaint café, neither one noticed the blonde woman around the corner slink back into the shadows of the building, a look of vicious contempt written across her face.

Later in the day, Harry and Draco were enjoying a relaxing afternoon by the outdoor pool at Harry's hotel. Draco was lying on a lounge chair whilst Harry floated on his back in the clear, blue water. The blonde's earlier discontent was gone, except for a lingering uneasy feeling. He thought it rather like a hangover, complete with a pounding headache. However, Draco now found that he could let Harry get more than just a few feet away without wanting to hyperventilate, something that he was, needless to say, extremely pleased about.

"Come in the pool," Harry called placidly. "There's nobody around."

"I can see that, Harry," Draco smiled, reaching over for his glass of lemonade. "I will when my headache goes away."

"Take something for it."

"I did, remember? An hour ago to be specific and it did not help a bit."

"All right," Harry relented, "but when I get out I'm sitting on you and getting you nice and wet."

Draco smirked. "Can we wait until we're in the privacy of your hotel room before you sit in my lap, Potter?"

"Pervert," Harry scolded, but Draco could hear the grin in his voice.

Sighing, Draco rolled his head against the back of the chair to look up at the sky. He stared a few moments before his eyes began to close and almost without his realising it, fell into a peaceful sort of doze.

Behind his eyelids, there were swirls of radiant gold, and green, so beautiful that if Draco had not had his eyes closed already, he would have done so. Immediately he recognised the colours for what they were – his aura. In the centre of the swirling colours were brief flashes of white light. Draco knew that to be his magic. He called forth his aura so that it was the only thing in his line of vision and with as much precision as he could muster threw forth a mental hook. Just as he pulled back on the hook, a small white light burst and the hook caught. The white exploded and for a moment all he could see was black. A burst of sudden blood-like colour washed over his vision and with it, a feeling of happiness so powerful it left him breathless. Images were rotating fast within his mind, but he could not understand any of them, though he tried his hardest to do so. Then, after only short seconds the aura shoved him back to consciousness and he sat back up in his chair gasping.

That had never happened before! He had never been able to get that far within his own aura! Something magnificent had happened! The only problem was that… well, he did not know what had triggered his magic to let him in that far. What had he remembered, if anything?

"Are you okay?" Harry was now standing in the water, his hands gripping the edge, his hair weighted down around his face by water. "Is it your headache?"

Draco looked to him, the swelling burst of happiness exploding in his chest again. "Oh, God," he whimpered and arose to his feet before he realised what he was doing. "_Harry_," he whispered reverently and in one fluid motion slipped into the water. It was a feeling so powerful, the same feeling he had felt within his aura… and it had been invoked merely by glancing at Harry. Harry stepped back in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

How could he have ever been _this_ happy? Draco marvelled. As he pinned Harry against the pool wall, he thought he might understand. Once upon a time, he had had somebody, perhaps a little like Harry, and he had been this happy. "I'm fine," he whispered, his face now inches from Harry's. "I'm happy."

"W… What about your headache?" Harry stammered, making a noise of surprise when Draco threw his knees to either side of his waist.

Draco blinked. "It's gone." A burst of laughter shot from his chest. Fuck, he felt so peculiar, like Harry was squeezing his heart and sending butterflies into his stomach, and brushing his fingertips over every centimetre of skin so that he tingled all over. But it felt great! "It's gone!"

"Are you quite sure you're all right?" Harry frowned.

"Harry," he smiled gently, touching Harry's cheek with his fingertips. "I'm quite sure I don't remember ever feeling like this in my entire life."

"And it's a… _good_ thing? Right?"

"It's a great thing, Harry."

Harry went still as they stared at each other, and Harry's hands went around Draco's backside to help hold him up. Abruptly, Draco could not stand looking into Harry's eyes anymore for fear that his heart would fly right out of his chest, so he kissed him. It was long and slow, and before long Harry was whimpering and pulling Draco's hips firmly against his, and Draco was encouraging him by tugging hard on his wet hair. Harry flipped around so that Draco was against the wall, water splashing around them everywhere.

Draco tensed his legs around Harry's waist and dug short nails into his back. They broke away from the kiss finally, and Draco buried his teeth into Harry's shoulder. Harry muffled his scream into Draco's neck and pressed the blond harder against the wall with his hips.

They pulled their heads back and stared at each other. Both of their mouths hung open, panting, their eyes were dilated, and Draco had just lost all control he may have clung onto. "Harry!" he moaned, the word rattling in the back of his throat until Harry covered the sound with his mouth. Harry pulled hard on Draco's hips one last time, jutting hard back against him, and then Draco saw stars. He flung back his head; unaware of what he was screaming, or what Harry was doing or saying. Draco looked back once more at Harry , who was blinking rapidly. Draco smiled stupidly at him and then fell limp against him.

"Hey, this is a family establishment!" somebody shouted from afar. At least that is what it sounded like to Harry's ears. He shook his head in order to rid the cotton from his ears and blinked hard to get rid of the dark, black spots that had started to swirl before his vision. Draco had just passed out in his arms, a goofy smile still on his face.

"Did you hear me, senor? This is for family!"

Inwardly, Harry swore and turned his head. There was a portly, local man exiting the hotel towards them. He scanned the mess floating in the water between them and swore again. "Evanesco!" he murmured waving his hand over the mess. "Time to make a run for it, Draco, I'm afraid." He hoisted Draco out of the water and jumped out. "Sorry!" he called. "Carried away and all that." Grabbing his wand, he shrunk everything they had taken to the pool and stuffed them in his wet trunks pocket. Then he lifted Draco into his arms and waving to the huffing man hurrying to them, Disapparated. After what had just happened and then having been caught, Harry was a little too embarrassed to go back in the hotel, so he Apparated to Draco's building and persuaded the guard to get the code for Draco's floor. Minutes later, with Draco now snoozing in his arms, Harry entered the flat and set him down on the couch. He rummaged around in his pocket for their towels and he dried, warmed, and then enlarged them. He quickly undressed Draco and wrapped him in the fluffy towel and then did the same for himself.

"Okay, let's get to the bed then," he murmured, affectionately smoothing Draco's hair away from his face. "It seems you've had an eventful day, Draco," he said softly as he carried Draco to his bedroom. "I wonder if you've realised what you've remembered."

He tucked Draco snugly under the blankets and crawled in next to him. Only when he was on his back, his hands behind his head did Harry allow himself to recall what Draco had said in the pool. Really, the blond probably had not realised what he had said, but at least it was a sign that Draco might be starting to remember something. He had been acting so peculiarly all day. It was the only logical explanation. Draco was beginning to remember.

A smile began to spread Harry's face. It was more than he could ever ask for.

Draco snorted in his sleep and turned on his side to face Harry. Harry turned to study him. Back in the pool for those last precious moments everything had felt like so right. Harry closed his eyes to remember everything about it. He wanted to remember the way Draco's face looked as he jumped in the pool, the way he had looked at him before they had kissed, the way Draco had looked as he came, and… and what Draco had said – his non-stop string of words and expletives that would have meant nothing if not for how Draco had finished. How he had whispered the words so reverently. Harry felt his mind cry with joy at the mere thought.

"Harry… Harry, I love you."

As much as Harry would be overjoyed if Draco remembered saying it, he knew that it would be dangerous if he did. Not because of his own words, but because of how Harry had answered. Harry did not know how many times he had said, 'Draco' and 'I love you.'

Harry was broken from his thoughts when an owl plunged down onto the bed. The owl swooped away when Harry untied the letter. It was addressed to Draco with his real name peculiarly on the front. Harry thought he knew who it was from. Biting his lip and turning to look at Draco, Harry carefully slit the paper open and read the contents.

_Draco, _

_Something I find truly disturbing has come to my attention. I demand you come see me at once and stop associating with your current companion. Immediately. I will not hear a word otherwise. _

_Sincerely,  
Mother _

As Harry folded the note back up, another owl swooped in bearing a letter for Harry. He noted that it was from Kingsley. "Stay," he ordered the owl quietly. "I want you to bring something back to Kingsley."

_Harry, _

_We have a problem. I must speak with you immediately at Headquarters. _

_KS_

Harry cleared the note with his wand and wrote another one.

_Kingsley, _

_Could this be the source of the problem? _

_I will leave here when Draco wakes up. He's been acting peculiarly all day, and I don't want to leave him just yet. He should wake soon. If not, I'll poke him. _

_HP_

_Attachment_

After the owl left, Harry lay back down, all evidence of any communication gone. Draco would never know. But exactly how long would it take for Narcissa to come to Draco? Had she seen them? Does she know where Harry is? Would she think to remove the tracking charm? He hoped not. There was always the chance that she did not know anything and she was speaking of something completely different. However, Harry thought it more likely that she knew of either the Aurors occupation of San Juan, or Harry's. Perhaps even both.

A quarter of an hour passed before Draco began to stir. Harry watched as he blinked his eyes open and tried to take in his surroundings. "Harry?" his voice cracked with sleep.

"I'm right here."

Draco turned to look at him. "Oh." He hesitated for a few moments and then scooted closer to him, trying (and succeeding) to get Harry to cuddle. "When did we come here?"

"When we were caught," Harry smirked. "We were a little loud. I was too embarrassed about it to go back inside." Draco hummed, his fingers tracing patterns on Harry's chest. "Are you feeling all right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you were acting strange before… well, you know."

"Oh, well I thought I was feeling fine then. I just felt overly happy."

"Do you still?"

Draco smiled lazily. "I'm still happy, just not so much that I feel punch-drunk, you know? And… well, more than anything, I'm content right now."

Harry ran his fingers up and down Draco's spine. "Me too," he replied and kissed the top of his head. "Do you know what might have made you feel so happy then?"

Draco was silent for a long while before he finally sighed. "Well… it's hard to explain, really. It was… I looked at you and I had this burst of emotion in my chest and it was almost too much for me to handle. I just wanted to touch you, or be near you or something. I just needed you. I only looked at you and you made me feel that way. It was so sudden. I don't understand it at all. Right now, I really don't even want to look into it. I'm just happy feeling like this."

He looked up at Harry, his face pink with embarrassment. "But now I feel like a jackass, having said that to you. After everything that's happened today you probably think I'm a complete basket case."

"No, I don't think so. I think I like you more after today. I like that you trust me enough to show me the crazy side of you." Harry grinned. "Just wait until you see mine."

"But it was different today," Draco insisted. "It was like I had no control over myself at all! I don't fully remember some of the things I did and said today when I was going crazy. It was almost like I was…." Harry watched as sudden enlightenment swept over his face. "Of course. I had thought of that earlier today, but I just brushed it off. That must be what it is."

"What?"

"I…. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Harry nodded though he could not help but feel disappointed. He was sure Draco was about to tell him about his memory loss, and could not shake the feeling of bitterness. Draco had told Matthew about it and they had been less than what he and Draco were to each other. Then again, Harry could see that maybe it was for that very reason that Draco did not want to say anything about it for fear of being rejected… or something. Of course, Draco might not trust Harry.

"You know… you can trust me."

Draco sat up and looked at Harry earnestly. "It's not that, Harry. I suppose I do trust you, though I know you're keeping something important from me. I'm not stupid. I saw how nervous you were when I saw Ayida. I'm certain it has to do with her. But… _this_ is difficult for me to talk about. Besides my mother, Matthew is the only person I've ever spoken to about it."

"Yes, well, Ayida is difficult for me to speak about as well, Kalen. There's a lot you don't know and I just find it difficult to talk about her father, about anything that has to do with her really." Harry sat up and laid a hand on Draco's arm. "I trust you though. I'm willing to tell you anything. I… _we_ have to be ready for me to tell everything."

"There's never a perfect time for anything, Harry."

"No there isn't. I hope you remember that when I do tell you everything there is to know about me."

"Why?"

"You'll find out, won't you?" Harry smiled slightly and checked the time. "Do you have plans for dinner?"

"Yes. I'm going with you."

"Brilliant," Harry grinned. "I think I'll go back to the hotel now and call Ayida before she goes to bed. Meet me at seven?"

Draco nodded and they kissed for a few minutes before Harry found the strength to extricate himself from the other man. He felt Draco's eyes on his backside as he disappeared into the living room. "Just so you know, Harry," Draco called as Harry buttoned up his trousers, "I've never had a relationship built on blind trust before. You had better not fuck it up. I rather like you."

"I won't if you won't," Harry pulled on his shirt. "See you at seven." He Disapparated before Draco could say anything more to the makeshift headquarters for the Aurors. Kingsley was waiting impatiently. There were more Aurors here than Harry had previously seen and was quite stunned by the bustle of the room, which seemed to have magically expanded since his visit just the previous night. That suddenly seemed like such a long time ago.

"Having yourself some fun then, Harry?" Kingsley rolled his eyes. "I talked to the hotel manager into letting you stay, but you have to promise not to make a public display like that again."

Harry blushed accordingly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over Draco. You probably heard how he was feeling, so I won't explain it again. I think he's remembering somehow."

"It's probably through his aura," Kingsley suggested. "Before you came, we went through his flat. It seems he's been studying how to read auras."

"Won't that be a problem if he reads mine?" Harry asked nervously.

"It has the potential to be a problem, yes, but we've been lucky that he has not been able to tap into his. Come over here. We'll talk."

Once they were seated in an empty corner of the office, Kingsley put up a silencing shield around them so that they could speak privately. Another Auror brought them each an iced tea and they each sipped once before they spoke again. "Do you know anything about auras, Potter?"

"Just the bare basics, really. I've never really had the interest in them."

"Then you'll know that a wizard's emotions, magic, and the like are stored in them?" Harry nodded. "A wizard or witch can't break through into another's aura unless they can break their own. They can only do _that_ if they are to say intact. Draco's aura is not intact; not with the memory loss he has suffered. His magic has been keeping him from the emotions he's felt before. Because if he were to feel them, he'll end up in the permanent spell damage ward in St. Mungo's."

"What you're saying is that – "

"Draco has tapped into his aura just today before the pool incident."

"How?"

"He must have remembered something. A wizard does not have to be completely cured to get in. I suspect Draco saw a little of what he felt at one time and then his magic pushed him out."

"He said he felt punch-drunk happy. And… and when he looked at me, it exploded inside of him."

"Then the emotion he felt was directly correlated to you. Under normal circumstances when somebody breaks into a whole aura, they won't be affected so strongly. But Draco was attacked by one emotion and a lot of it by the sounds of it."

"Are you saying that what happened then wasn't real? It was just… just the after-effects of feeling a past emotion?"

"Oh, I'm sure it was real enough. Harry, I know I said that he doesn't love you before, but when you first came here, the fact of the matter was, was that he probably didn't. Matthew was right. It's still there somewhere. What's that Muggle saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. I have faith enough that what he said to you afterwards wasn't a lie."

Harry nodded; a heavy weight he had forgotten was there, lifting. "How much longer then? I don't know how much longer I can sit here and keep everything from him, Kingsley."

"Well, I didn't call you here to talk about Draco's aura reading ability, believe it or not," he smiled.

"Did you get the letter I sent?"

"Yes, actually. Good work on that by the way. It confirmed to us what we had already begun to suspect today."

"What's that?"

"Narcissa knows you're here."

Harry blew out a breath. "Did she see me?"

"Just before you went to breakfast, yes."

"On the street?" Harry asked horrified. "That was when…."

"Yes," he nodded sagely. "We believe Narcissa heard him."

"We weren't exactly keeping our voices down, were we?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No, but there's nothing we can do about it now. As you can see," Kingsley gestured to the Aurors bustling around the room, looking at maps, listening to Draco, and who knew what else. "I've sent for more Aurors. It may turn out to be unnecessary but I have three men trailing you and another three trailing Draco."

"So there are six of you when we're together?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes. We have reason to believe that Narcissa is getting ready to act. There's no telling what she'll do this time. Draco knows you again and you're onto her. We need to make the extra precautions so that neither of you get hurt."

"How did you find out that Narcissa knows about me?" Harry questioned.

"She's been snooping around in England. Molly Weasley, Ron and Hermione all told me that she's been asking where you are and that she needs to speak to you. They, of course, didn't offer any information she could use. We're also following her, so we knew where she was this morning, right where you and Draco were. Harry… I'm obligated to ask you to leave the country. Go back home to Ayida and we'll take care of things here. Now that Narcissa knows, you're in direct danger, and I won't take the chance of you getting hurt or killed."

"I won't leave, Kingsley. I'll be fine, you'll see. This is almost over. I know it is, and I'm going to be here to see the end of it."

Kingsley sighed. "I thought as much. Then I have to tell you that anything that happens to you is not the Ministry of Magic's fault. You're here on your own will."

"I know," Harry said firmly.

Kingsley waved his wand and the silencing wall fell. "Be on your guard, Harry. This is not friendly territory any longer to you."

"I don't think it ever was," Harry said grimly.

There were exactly four hours and twenty minutes from the time Harry left and the time they were to meet again. Draco knew because as soon as Harry Disapparated, he looked at his watch. It might not be enough time, but it was a start. Ten minutes later, Draco had arrived at the local wizarding library and started to look through the tomes of books on famous witches and wizards. He found it slightly more difficult here than he would in England as they mostly listed their most famous locals.

However, to his utter delight Harry Potter was famous enough for the outside world as well. Fitting, he thought, as Harry _was_ the only wizard to ever survive the killing curse. He carried a rather sizeable stack to a nearby table and set them down carefully so as to avoid an avalanche of books.

"Would I be of any help to you today?" a short witch with curly red hair asked him as he opened his first book. He glanced up at her a few times before deciding to answer her.

"I'm just trying to find some information on a famous wizard, that's all."

"Really? Which one might that be? Perhaps I could find some more useful books?"

Draco sighed, wondering if it might be wise to let her know who he was looking for. Throwing caution to the wind, he closed his book again. "Harry Potter."

"Oh!" her eyes lit up. "A most interesting topic, indeed. I'm from America, but I've always loved his story, so I'm more familiar with him than anybody else around here. Some would call it an obsession, I call it a passion," she added imperiously with a flip of her hair and a grin. "Let me take a look at the books you have here." She started rifling through the titles without his permission, clicking her tongue and muttering under her breath as she went. "Well, these will only give you so much information as they were written by Americans and a couple locals. I know of a few other books written by Europeans that might be more useful. I'll run and get them for you then."

"Thank you."

She nodded. "The name is Darlene if you need anything else."

Draco thanked her again and returned to the closed book in front of him. He ran his finger down the contents page looking for Harry's name, but stopped when he felt eyes on his back. He turned to the side. Darlene had gone to the stacks at the other end and was staring at him with a frown. She smiled when he looked and went back to looking through the books. Draco shook his head and flipped to the correct page and began to read.

Hardly twenty minutes had passed when Darlene came back with two books and a frown. "Sorry, but this was all I could find. Everything else is checked out, you know. You'll have to come back next week to find them. Strange though… I could have sworn they were here, but maybe they were checked out without my knowledge." She shrugged and then set the books down and flipped to a page where a large picture of Harry blinked back at them, his face shy as he smiled slightly at the camera. "Cute thing, isn't he?" Darlene smiled. "Too bad he's gay though. For me at any rate. If you were interested, I think you would have a chance."

"Probably," Draco nodded absently.

"Of course, he's been seeing some Quidditch player for the past couple years. When I heard that, I thought Potter must be a real jerk. He claimed to have been only friends with that Pickleworms character, but I personally think they were an item right off the bat."

"Why would he be a jerk for seeing somebody?"

Darlene looked at him as if he was mental. "Obviously because it hadn't even been a year since his husband had died."

Draco choked on air. "_Husband_?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're _from_ England and you don't know the slightest about Harry Potter? It's almost pathetic, you know. How old are you?"

"Er – why does that matter?"

"Because you look like you're his age. How old are you?"

Draco frowned. "I'll be twenty-five at the beginning of June next year."

"Ah-ha! Harry Potter is due to turn twenty-five this coming July. According to my calculations, you would have been in the same year in school."

Draco blinked. "Really? But we both went to Hogwarts, I know that much. I was a Slytherin and he a Gryffindor…. I don't remember him though. You would think I would have noticed if Harry Potter was in my year."

Darlene was looking at him sceptically. "If you're waiting for my diagnosis, here it is. You have some serious problems. You're only two months older than him." She stood up. "You were in the same year. It's probably a good thing then that you're trying to find out more about him, considering you probably knew him. It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

"Yes, well…" He searched for something to say as she sauntered away. "I think it's weird that you know a little _too_ much about him!"

She turned at the edge of the stacks and smiled. "It's one thing to be interested in celebrities. It's an entirely different thing to not remember your famous classmates." Shrugging, she disappeared.

Draco turned back to the books. Harry's face, though it was merely smiling shyly, seemed to be smirking up at Draco from its place in the book. His mind was in a panic. _The same year? The _same _bloody year? _How was that possible? That was easy to answer. It wasn't possible. Harry would have said something. Surely Harry would have said something. Then again, perhaps it _was_ possible and they had never crossed paths. Yes, that had to be it. Because surely if they had been in the same year, they would have known each other unless both were too preoccupied with other things to notice each other.

That had to be it.

Draco knew deep down that that was not it. It was not it at all. But what other explanation did he have? If they had known each other, Harry would have recognised him. Draco had to believe that because the only thing he had was his trust in Harry. That was all. He could not lose that, because Harry had offered nothing else.

He spent the remainder of the night in the library, scouring the books for things on Harry Potter. By the time a different librarian told him it was closing time, Draco had started to get extremely fed up. Even the books that Darlene had brought to him had the same useless information.

Harry Potter was the only one to survive the killing curse. Re-emerged in wizarding society aged eleven years, completed extraordinary tasks, duelled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at age fourteen, defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at age seventeen, married a nameless bloke straight from Hogwarts, had a child, and now continued to live happily with his daughter in a house on the outskirts of London.

Draco decided to take the books home in the hopes that they were playing some conniving trick on him, and would only reveal the whole story outside of the library. On his kitchen table at home, he spread the books out and cast any revealing spells he could think of but still found nothing. The only thing that he found that made him feel like he was getting somewhere, was a mail-order form for a new, updated version of Famous Witches and Wizards Around the World, which had been stuck inside of Biography of a Wizard.

After Draco had sent the order form with his local bird, a wave of tiredness swept over him and he checked his watch: ten minutes to midnight. Then the tiredness was swept away by a shock of alarm. He had been meant to meet Harry five hours ago! How he had not noticed how much time had passed, he did not know.

Then he thought of what it would be like seeing Harry after finding out that it was entirely possible that they had been in the same year at Hogwarts, and felt nausea and exhaustion overtake him. He decided it was a better idea to go to bed and deal with it in the morning.

It took a long time to fall asleep and when he finally did, he was plagued with nightmares that woke him before he even felt like he had been sleeping. After his third time waking with no memory of the nightmare, he sat up in bed and hugged his knees. He was sure it was the same nightmare because he woke up scared, desperate, and so lonely every time. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and laid his cheek on his knee. All he knew now was that he would not be able to sleep without seeing Harry. It was a desperate need coalescing within him. He had to see Harry and make sure he was okay! The more he thought of it the more scared he became. By the time he scrambled from the bed, his heart was beating erratically and he was in a desperately frightened state of mind. He was sure that when he got to Harry, he would be dead, shockingly stabbed in the neck with his green eyes wide open. Blank. They would be so blank.

Draco's hands shook as he mistakenly grabbed a pair of dirty boxers and pulled them over the ones he already wore. His feet led him to his wardrobe where he pulled out his old flannel and pushed it on, leaving the front unbuttoned. He stuffed his nose in it and shook only more violently. "Harry," he whimpered and went to pull his running shoes on over bare feet.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry," he chanted over and over again as he thought of his destination, the desperate pull inside to get to Harry yanking so hard it was hurting. Then he Disapparated and his knees landed on something soft, though now there was a dull ache in his shoulder that he tried to shake off, but found he could not.

He had landed on Harry's bed in his hotel room. Harry jerked to a sitting position, his wand immediately in his hand and pointing at Draco's throat. "Harry," Draco practically yelled and Harry lowered his wand in confusion.

"What…. Hey, your arm is gone! You splinched yourself! Are you drunk? Where's your arm?"

Furiously, Draco shook his head and launched himself against the other man. Harry awkwardly folded his arm around Draco's back as Draco pressed his face into his neck. After quite a few minutes, the frightened desperation was finally dissipating and Draco began to concentrate on the pain in his missing arm, and the musky scent Harry always seemed to give off. Draco smiled. "You smell like my flannel."

Harry did not answer because there was a knock on the door and with a wave of his wand, Harry opened it. A local wizard entered looking quite disgruntled with Draco's arm in his hands. He spoke in a thick Spanish accent. "Mr. Kalen Mortimer, you splinched your arm in an Apparition of approximately seven minutes ago. The cause of this is because you somehow Apparated through the anti-Apparition barrier the hotel has in place. If Mr. Harry Potter has no objections, I shall take him in for questioning."

"That won't be necessary. I know him, and he's just drunk, that's all. If you could just sort him out, that would be great."

"Very well." He then waved his wand and Draco was restored an arm. He relaxed against Harry's body, the pain gone immediately. "Mr. Mortimer, please follow the Apparition guidelines from now on, or risk losing your license for Apparition. This will be on your record."

Draco lifted his head. "Sorry," he mumbled.

When the government official had left, Harry backed away from Draco with a strange look. "I'm not drunk," Draco defended himself.

Harry ignored him. "How did you manage to do that?"

Draco shifted nervously. "I don't know. I just wanted to see you. That's all."

"So you broke through the powerful wards surrounding this building just to do it? There was a much easier way, you know."

"Yes, there probably was." He attempted a rueful smile, but it came out as a grimace.

Harry studied him for a few moments in silent wonder before sighing. "I was really worried about you tonight, Kalen. I went looking everywhere I could think of for you, but nobody had seen you anywhere."

Draco shrugged again. "Did you go to my flat?"

"That's the first and fourth place I went."

"Well… I got there late."

"But you're not going to tell me where you were when I was waiting for you here? Or where you were when I was frantically searching the city for you?"

"I would rather keep it to myself actually." He looked up imploringly, Harry's green eyes catching him immediately. Mercifully, they were not blank. Draco did not stop himself when he reached out to touch his cheek. He was so changed from the picture Draco had obsessively stared at between looking at other books. Harry was so grown up and so very handsome…. "I'm sorry, Harry. I forgot the time. I was wrapped up in what I was doing. It won't happen again. Please don't hate me."

Sighing, Harry looked down, his thoughts seeming to swirl around on his face as Draco tried to gain some clue as to what he was thinking. Harry swallowed and then his eyes landed on Draco's torso. He licked his lips. "Nice shirt."

Draco blushed. "Um… thanks? I don't normally wear it. It's not really my style, but I really love this shirt. I don't know why."

When Draco looked at Harry's face again, it was to find that it had softened considerably and Harry was minutely shaking his head as he stared. "You are just…" Harry began, and then his voice seemed to fail him.

"Pathetic?" Draco attempted to finish for him.

"No. You're… you're…. Come here." Harry held out his arms and smiling shyly, Draco moved into them. "There's nothing I can say," he whispered into his hair. "But I can tell you that I think you're far from pathetic. You're sweet, and I don't think you'll ever understand why I think so right now."

Slowly, Draco manoeuvred so that he was straddling Harry's lap and kissed him. They started out much slower than earlier in the day when they had been in the pool. Draco was feeling calm now, and with Harry's hands rubbing against him, and his soft lips pressed against his, much safer than he had all day. Harry eventually turned them over, gently pressing Draco against the soft mattress, kissing him slowly and so very deep that Draco began to lose his bearings on where he was. Harry gently removed his shirt and tossed it aside, licking and nibbling at Draco's nipples and his fingers looped under the waistband of his boxers. Draco arched against the touch, his mouth falling open. Then Harry was pulling away and it wasn't supposed to end. Draco whimpered.

"What the hell?" Harry pulled down Draco's boxers to find another pair. Harry glanced up at the blonde's face and laughed. "I think you _are_ drunk." Draco felt his face warm. "Either that or you're trying to keep me out of your pants." Harry chuckled low in his throat when Draco shook his head vigorously like an idiot. "I didn't think so." With a sly look in his eyes, Harry lowered his second pair of boxers and gripped him tightly. Draco bucked against him. "Steady on," Harry whispered, his breath hot against Draco's flesh. Then he leaned down and swirled his tongue slowly into his bellybutton as he stroked Draco leisurely.

Draco yelled out as his nerve endings exploded. Draco gripped Harry's hair, wondering how Harry knew how much Draco liked that when Draco, himself, had not even known his bellybutton could make him feel like that. It went on like that for interminable minutes with Harry petting, licking, and stroking places on Draco's body that Draco did not know had existed, had not known could be so _fucking_ erotic.

"No, stop! Please, Harry!" Draco cried out when he was sure he would burst. His hips were moving of their own volition and he just wanted Harry _inside_ him.

Harry moved up from between his legs, licking and practically smacking his lips as if he had just enjoyed a delicious meal. "Yes?" he asked lowly, his voice full of arousal.

"Stop before I die," Draco laughed weakly. He pulled Harry to him and kissed him. "I want you." His hips bucked. "Right now."

"How?" Harry sucked in Draco's bottom lip.

"God, I don't care! However you want me. I need you, all right?"

The next five minutes were a hazy blur as Harry flipped him onto his stomach and pressed in over and over. Draco buried his face in the pillow, trying not to listen to the skin against skin, the low grunts and moans coming from both of them, and the slight squeak of the bed. He tried to concentrate on Harry and how he felt. He tried to memorize this feeling. When the end approached, Draco knew he had felt this before. Not with Jude, or with anybody else. But with Harry. He had felt this way with Harry before. Stars erupted in his eyes for the second time that day, but when Harry collapsed on top of him, Draco stayed conscious, fully aware of everything that was happening. And he wondered why Harry kept muttering 'Draco' and not 'Kalen.' Harry slipped away to lie next to him, his breathing slowly going even. When he was asleep, Draco turned to look at him.

"I did know you, didn't I?" Draco whispered. "That's your secret."

All Draco knew at that very moment was that he had never felt more betrayed in his entire life. Of course, it was not wholly right to put all the blame on Harry. No, Draco had been blind, deaf, and dumb. Darlene had been right. Of course she had. How could he have not put it together before? They had been in the same year together. Harry had deliberately betrayed his trust for a stupid lie. To think that he had been trying to get Draco to tell him about his memory loss when he already knew!

"You could have told me," he whispered fiercely and jumped from the bed, dressing, and leaving the room with a slam. He did not care that Harry startled awake. He did not care when Harry called for him, his voice tired and confused.

"Draco?"

Draco ignored the falter his suddenly weak knees took. He walked on.

* * *

**Post A/N:** Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note:** First a big thanks to everybody who continues to encourage this and is still sticking with me even after so very long. Thank you! That includes my beta, PadfootsBitch who also continues to be fantastic and very patient with me as I've left her in limbo with chapter thirteen all summer long.

I wanted to post this when I was finished writing chapter thirteen. But I also said that at the beginning of the summer and since school is closing in on me and I have only six pages of chapter thirteen written, I present chapter nine without further ado. Enjoy!

**Lacuna  
**_Chapter Nine_

The next morning, Harry knew exactly what he had done. Kingsley made sure of it. Despite the Auror's best warnings to not contact Draco for the next couple of days, Harry tried looking for the blond anyway. However, it was all in vain. Draco had taken to avoiding Harry as best he could. The closest Harry got to him the night after was from across the club. Harry had Apparated to where he had been next to the bar, but Draco, having seen him as well, Disapparated from the club altogether.

On the second day, Harry went to headquarters and politely asked them to tell him where Draco was. They politely refused.

On the third day, Harry went to headquarters and begged anybody who would listen to tell him where Draco was. They begged him to leave, and when he did not, threatened to send him home.

He stopped begging, but then he went straight to Kingsley to ask permission to tell Draco everything. Kingsley was not to be persuaded. Harry left headquarters in a very foul mood and a rebellious streak coalescing within him. It was not until after Harry had eaten dinner that night that a stroke of luck found him. After finishing dinner, he exited the café and looking to his left, spotted Draco about twenty metres away. Grinning, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket (an idea he had had only the day before), and making sure nobody was looking, disappeared beneath it. He scurried up the street until he was directly behind the blond and tried very hard to keep his footsteps in time with his.

Draco was reading a piece of paper and mumbling under his breath. Harry noticed a book-like package beneath his arm. Minutes later, they were entering Draco's building and Harry had to sneak into the elevator ahead of Draco so as to get on in time. Draco seemed to feel a gust of wind pass him and looked around suspiciously for a moment before stepping on.

As the lift ascended, Draco stared up to the top of the door, whistling a tuneless song. When the door opened at Draco's floor, Draco turned on Harry and tackled him against the wall. Harry, taken by complete surprise, let out a startled squawk and before Harry knew it, he was on the floor and Draco was straddling his invisible stomach and panting with the effort it had taken to get the advantage. Harry felt oddly stupid now that only his head was showing.

"You've been avoiding me," he gasped.

"_You're_ following me," Draco snarled.

"Because you've been avoiding me! How did you know I was here?"

"You told me you had an Invisibility cloak, you bloody wanker."

"No, I didn't!"

"When we fucked the first time, I asked as you were falling asleep, and you said you did. Now I'm going to stand up and you're going to stay in this lift and go back down. Got it?"

"No!" Harry grabbed onto his ankle. "We need to talk!"

"We had plenty of time before, but you never wanted to."

"I always wanted to! I'm technically not allowed to say anything. Please, let me come in and I'll explain as much as I can."

Draco seemed to be torn between finding answers and kicking Harry out. His jaw worked furiously and his eyes were stormy. "You'll answer my questions?"

"If I can," Harry swallowed nervously.

"Fuck that!" Draco slammed his palm against the wall. "You don't have a spell holding you back, do you? If you want to get me to listen, you'll say that you'll answer everything, and you'll mean it!"

"But… but, I could be held in –"

"I don't care!" Draco roared. "This is my life and you're keeping it from me!"

Harry scrambled to his feet. "That's not fair!" he yelled. "I'm not the one who took your memory away, am I?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" Draco retorted lowly. "I can't remember a fucking thing." He paused for a moment, his eyes darting away and then back to Harry. Confusion and curiosity battled fiercely with anger in his eyes. In the end, the former won out. "Some… somebody did take it away from me then? Do you know who?"

Harry pushed out of the lift fearing that Draco would send him down if he realised too quickly that Harry had to steer the conversation in a different direction. "That's not where we should start."

"The basics then?" His voice was uncertain and his steps toward Harry jerky.

Harry nodded. "The basics. It starts…." Harry held eyes with him. "You and I, we met when we were eleven." Draco's face clouded and he paced to the kitchen where he began rummaging for things in the cupboards, but Harry could only guess at what. "Madam Malkin's robe shop. It was my birthday and I had just learned that I was a wizard. I met you there and I found you spoiled and rotten just like my cousin. We met again on the train to Hogwarts, but you were just as disagreeable to me, and I turned down your offer of friendship. We hated each other for years because of it." He paused to let it sink in, but that turned out to be a mistake.

Draco grabbed a plate and flung it at the wall behind Harry's head. He yelped and ducked out of the way. "I trusted you!" Draco screamed, and he grabbed a cup and smashed it on the floor. "All this time you've known more about my life than even I do and you KEPT IT FROM ME!"

"I… I didn't want…."

"SHUT UP! I don't CARE what you did or didn't want! I can't _handle_ this." Tugging hard on his hair, Draco zipped from the room and before Harry could catch up, had taken the lift out of the flat. Harry sighed and Apparated to the lobby. Draco showed up moments later.

"Just let me explain some more. Please, Draco."

Draco roared wordlessly and ran to the street. In desperation, Harry sent a spell at Draco's back so that he would not be able to Apparate, and ran as fast as he could after him. "So, now you'll say my name," Draco shouted over his back, his pace slowing. He turned and began walking backwards down the street. "You'll say it when it's _convenient_! You'll say it when I'm feeling the most fucking vulnerable. You know what? I don't want to listen to your explanations. I'm too _fucking_ pissed off right now, Harry!" Draco screamed, his arms flailing. "So, we didn't like each other in school. You're having a nice laugh about this all right now, aren't you? Ha, ha, look at Draco Malfoy; he can't remember where his own asshole is. Maybe I'll stick my dick in it and _then_ he'll remember!"

"You have it all wrong, Draco."

"Do I? Well, I don't recall you ever telling me otherwise!"

"I wasn't allowed! I'm still not! I've begged and begged to be allowed to say something but they never let me."

Draco's nostrils were flaring in anger. "If you had wanted something badly enough, you would have done it anyway, Harry. You seem the type to disregard the rules."

Jaw set, Harry practically dove for Draco's arm as he turned to get away. "You want to know? Do you want to know why I'm still here?"

"I don't know," Draco snarled, spit flying from between his lips. Harry did not think he had ever seen Draco so vicious. "It depends on if it's the truth or not."

Harry pressed in closer so that their chests touched. "I promise you," he whispered urgently, "that you will never hear truer words come from my mouth, Draco."

"_What_?" Draco grit out, his hand coming up to grip Harry's left elbow.

"Two months out of Hogwarts, I became married. I married _you_, Draco." Harry felt the tension drain ever so slightly from Draco's frame. "_You_. I –" He paused, concurrently feeling warmth in his lower back and a sharp jab within his throat.

Draco sneered. "You what, Harry? Say it."

Harry tried to reply, but it felt as though he was swallowing a sword. "_Say it_," Draco bit out, as he tightened his grip on Harry's elbow. He was hurting the damaged nerves there, but Harry could hardly feel it for the pain in his throat and lower back and stomach. "You're such a fucking liar," Draco finally snarled after Harry had been silent for much too long. He released Harry's arm in disgust and turned to walk away.

A jolt of magic enveloped the entirety of Harry's abdomen, sending his knees crashing to the ground. He tried to cry out for Draco, but a tearing force ripped at his throat and the name came out as an odd sort of scream. Draco stopped and turned, disgust written across his face. Harry was starting to feel weak. It was an effort to keep his head up as he stared up at the other man. Slowly, Draco's face fell.

"Harry," he said, slowly pointing his finger. "You're bleeding."

When Harry let his head drop to look, he saw that his light blue shirt was plastered to his stomach and was stained with blood. He blinked numerous times, attempting to process what was going on. Draco dropped to his knees and slowly lifted the shirt. He quickly dropped it again when he saw Harry's bare skin and scrambled a few feet away, his breath coming quick and uneven. "What's happened?" he whispered fearfully, and their eyes met. Harry could not speak, but he wanted to so badly. He still had so much to say! Instead, he reached his hand out to grasp Draco's hand. But before he could reach, he fell to his side. The last thing he saw was Kingsley Shacklebolt running to them.

"Move!" a deep voice commanded from behind. Draco merely blinked. Somebody pushed against his side, attempting to get closer to Harry who now lay on the ground convulsing, foam flowing from his mouth. Yet more people seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"She moved too fast, Shacklebolt!" another voice shouted. "It happened too fast!"

"We need to get him to hospital!"

Only the voices were penetrating Draco's numb mind. He was not able to comprehend any of the images his eyes sent to him. He did not know what was happening. Where had all these people come from? "Is he going to die?" he asked, his voice seeming to come from an empty dungeon room a long way away. Something was too familiar about this: Harry's blood, fear at the thought of him dying…. It was too familiar and it did not sit well in Draco's stomach.

The man who had first come to Harry's aid stood up as Harry was being lifted from the ground. "We hope not," he stared down at Draco from his considerable height.

"Don't let him. He can't. He… he said he's…." He trailed off. He could not grasp anything Harry had said to him or any of the blood… all of the blood. The man hooked a hand beneath Draco's armpit and heaved him to his feet.

"We know, Draco. We know. We're doing all we can for you two." Draco blinked and the hand vanished from his arm. "Malfoy's in shock! I know I assigned somebody the job of taking care of him. And I dearly hope somebody is on her trail. We don't want to lose her after all our work."

"Hi, Draco," a woman greeted him as she gently took hold of his elbow. Draco blinked at her, a shock of recognition pulsing through him. However, he could not seem to get her name from his lips. He merely blinked at her. She smiled weakly. "Surely you'll remember me? We've known each other since we were kids." He managed a nod and a choked cry escaped his throat when he attempted to say her name. "Oh, Draco," her eyes got round and wet like they always did before she cried. Draco could remember that. She hugged him tightly. "You were always so enamoured with him, weren't you? And look where it's got you, you great fool."

"Pansy," he finally squeezed out. "I can't believe it."

"Finnigan, this portkey will activate in thirty seconds. Malfoy's things will be sent along." Pansy broke the hug and caught a galleon somebody had just tossed to her.

Draco blinked at her. "Who's Finnigan?"

She blushed. "Me. I'll explain later, all right? You're coming home with me for now. Grab the galleon now, won't you?"

Draco complied, his eyes falling to the sidewalk where Harry's blood stained the cement. He reeled backwards as a vivid image appeared to him. A carpet was stained with blood when he turned his head. He jumped up and ran down a hall in a frenzy, screaming for Harry.

"Draco, concentrate on my face," Pansy was snapping her fingers in his eyes. He blinked and stared at her. "The portkey goes off in five. Stay on my face, Draco." Seconds later, Draco felt the pull behind his naval and then he was being dumped in a dark bedroom. Pansy waved her wand and candles flared to life. "Welcome to my house. We're in Ipswich, just outside it at any rate. There's a view of the water out this window in case you're interested."

"Pansy," Draco cut her off from speaking again. "How long has it been? Since we've seen each other, I mean?"

She shuffled her feet, seemingly ashamed for both of them. "I danced with you at your wedding. I left shortly after, and we haven't even written since."

Somehow, Draco's brain managed to skip over her mentioning his wedding. "Do you know why?"

Shrugging, she went to straighten the blankets on the queen sized bed. "I travelled a lot after Hogwarts, and you had your own life with Potter. It was a natural thing. We had our own lives, you know. Besides, you rather drifted from us those last few years at Hogwarts. I never exactly felt welcome to visit, since you were never home anyway when you were training to be an Auror. It would have been weird, you understand for me to show up to visit with Potter by myself." She sniffed haughtily and straightened her robes down her legs.

It was as if his brain was under a freezing spell and it was only just beginning to melt. He thought of Harry, remembered his words and how they had married so long ago. Now Pansy was corroborating with what he had said. He collapsed to the bed behind him and tried to conjure memories of living and actually loving another man. There was nothing. He could not remember ever knowing Harry. Again, the memory – if it was a memory – drifted to the forefront of Draco's mind. All that blood, and the rising hysteria within his own chest, turning a corner into a bedroom and feeling as though he were moving in slow motion and seeing… nothing. There was nothing beyond that in his current state of mind.

With a whimper of what he later termed as fear, Draco pushed the memory from his mind. He looked at Pansy. "So… it's true?" Draco whispered. "Harry and I…"

"You were married when you were the ripe age of eighteen – loved each other unconditionally from my understanding. Odd really to think about when you two absolutely hated each other for years before. But I suppose I should have seen it coming. You were always rather obsessed with him, trying to upset him at every turn."

"D… do you know if he still does, then?"

"Does what?"

Draco swallowed. "Does he still love me?"

"Oh, Draco," Pansy said gently, sitting down beside him and taking his hand. "He wouldn't have been in San Juan if he didn't."

Draco nodded jerkily and looked at the floor. "What happened to me?" he asked, his voice betraying his desperation to know.

Pansy was silent for a few moments, choosing to run her fingernails through Draco's hair before she began speaking. She had always done so when he had been upset years ago. It had always calmed him. It hardly seemed to help now. "You've had enough shocks for tonight. I won't get into the details right now, but you were severely depressed for about a month. Somebody, I won't say who right now, exploited that. She said that you had finally come to your end and you had committed suicide when really, she had taken your memory away. Everybody believed you dead, including Harry when he finally resurfaced. He might have fallen into the same depression if it hadn't been for Ayida's birth. I hear he never really believed you would commit suicide."

"What do you mean 'resurfaced'?" Draco asked instead of asking who had taken his memory away. He was not stupid. He thought he knew. He just did not want it to be real.

Pansy was quiet for a bit. "I can't say right now. You need food and rest, I understand. We should get you to bed as soon as possible."

"I'm neither hungry nor tired. I ate only an hour ago."

"Then you'll sleep." She grabbed a vial of potion from the bedside table. "You're to take this and sleep it off. No arguments. You may feel fine now, but you're likely still in shock."

Draco was already kicking off his shoes. He was not tired and did not particularly feel like sleeping, but he did not feel fine. If he could take a potion to make him forget everything until he woke again, he would not complain. Grabbing the potion from her, he downed it in one go and slipped beneath the covers.

"That was easy," Pansy blinked. "I don't ever remember you being so agreeable."

"I feel nauseous, Pansy. I don't want to think about Harry right now and if he's dead yet. I'm going to go to sleep."

"Okay, then."

Draco yawned and snuggled deeper into the blankets. "Tomorrow morning you'll explain to me why your name is Finnigan. I hope you haven't gone and married some Muggle."

"No, you'll recognise him," Pansy smiled slyly down at him. "Now sleep."

Draco blinked his eyes closed and was asleep before Pansy left the room.

The next morning when Draco awoke, Pansy was waiting on the end of the bed with a tray full of steaming food. She lit up when his eyes opened. "Breakfast!" she chimed.

Draco struggled to a sitting position. "So this whole thing wasn't a horrible nightmare, then?"

"Afraid not…. Eat up. You've been sleeping for nearly a day, you must be starved."

Draco pulled the tray to his lap and dug into the kippers. "What time is it anyway?" he asked after he had swallowed his first bite.

"Almost two in the afternoon."

"Shouldn't you be at work?"

"You are work, Draco," she smiled. "I'm being paid to do this, you know." When Draco frowned at her, she hurried on. "I also volunteered to do whatever I could to help you should anything disastrous happen. I can't help that getting paid is part of the work hazard," she joked.

Reluctantly, Draco felt himself snort in laughter. "Okay." He ate his way through the large breakfast in silence whilst Pansy leaned casually against the post of the bed, quietly humming as she gave herself a manicure with her wand. If Draco closed his eyes for just a moment, he could trick himself into believing that they were teenagers again and back at Hogwarts. This was so familiar, and it was such a relief to have something familiar that he almost laughed aloud.

"All right, Malfoy," Pansy pocketed her wand. "You look entirely too content. What are you smirking about?"

"This is a smile, Parkinson," Draco pointed at his face. "And I'm _smiling_ about this… us here like this."

"What are you banging on about?"

"It's familiar," his face clouded slightly. "It was familiar with Harry the past couple weeks, but not a familiar I remember. Not like here with you. I can remember this."

Pansy nodded and crawled up the bed to sit beside him. "I understand. However, you'll also have to keep in mind that you're not in love with me. It's different when you feel that strongly about somebody. It's familiar with Harry, yet it's not because you're uncomfortable and probably sweating just a little bit, and wondering if you're stuttering a little too much. And really," Pansy looked at him fondly. "You're worrying too much because he already kisses the ground you walk on, and he thinks you're adorable when you sweat just a little bit."

"You don't know that really."

"No," she conceded. "But that's the way love is for everybody, isn't it? Seamus passes a lot of gas, and it's rude and often times a little too smelly, but I think it's adorable when he blushes and stutters over apologies."

"_Seamus_?" Draco exclaimed, moving back to look at her better. "You married Seamus Finnigan? You married a bloody _Gryffindor_?"

Pansy blushed indignantly. "You are allowed to and I'm not, am I? For God's sakes, Draco, you married Harry Potter! I've never given you one bit of shit for that, have I?"

Draco stuttered. "I… I don't know, have you? I'm sorry! For fuck's sake, I only learned of it yesterday, Pansy!"

"Oh!" Pansy covered her mouth. "No, _I'm_ sorry, Draco. That was a terrible thing of me to say! Of course it might be natural for you to react like that. We were always tormenting the Gryffindors, weren't we?"

"Just never mind, Pansy," Draco sighed. "I still don't believe it anyway. I don't want to think about the fact that I've a husband. I've never been an advocate for adultery, but I think I could write the book on how to get married and still shag as many single blokes as I want without the guilt."

Pansy raised a brow. "Theatrics is still high on your list, I see."

"Shove off," Draco muttered and desolately moved the food around on his plate. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, but I need to know some things before we move the conversation along."

"Anything, Draco."

"Harry – is he…."

"He's at St. Mungo's in a coma, but his brain waves are strong. He's fighting."

"What kind of curse hit him?"

Pansy swallowed and nodded. "The first was an ancient Dark curse that you have to aim at the lower back for it to activate. The aim was true unfortunately. Then another curse was aimed at his voice box. It severed it so that he couldn't speak."

"What does the first one do?"

"It crushes everything in its path. It starts where it hits and works its way up to the brain. It crushes bones, organs, everything, until it gets to the brain and smashes it to a pulp."

"How far did it get?" Draco asked, suddenly realising exactly how scared he was that Harry might die.

"They stopped it before it could do more lasting damage. It takes approximately fifteen minutes to get to the brain, so we were lucky that Aurors were following you and Harry. He should live, Draco. I don't know exactly what the damage will be when he wakes up, but he'll live and that's the important thing, isn't it? I mean, you do both have a daughter to think about."

"He'll be all right then. That's all I wanted to –" Draco stopped abruptly and blinked at Pansy. "A daughter?" he murmured.

"You… you did know, didn't you, Draco?" she asked nervously.

"Ayida?" he blinked and really looked at her. She nodded. "She's mine?" He paused for a moment and then something burst within him. "She's mine! I'm so stupid!" He grabbed Pansy's shoulders hard. "I met her and I actually thought…" He laughed. "I actually considered that she was some bastard child of my father's or something. I'm such an idiot!"

"You couldn't have known, Draco," Pansy shook her head. "You had no idea about anything of your past. Of course you wouldn't recognise her as your own child."

"But she looks exactly like me!"

"And you look exactly like your father, Draco."

He shook his head and jumped from the bed. A bag of his things were set on a chair in a corner of the room. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. She could be at the hospital right now, or she could be at the Weasleys' house. She's been staying there since Harry's been away."

Draco whipped around. "The Weasleys' house? Why would she stay there?"

"Ron and Hermione Weasley are Harry's best friends, Draco. Ron's parents are like Harry's parents. Ayida calls Molly Weasley 'grandma.'"

It all snapped together like the perfect puzzle. It was all so obvious, but he had not had the time to put it all together. Harry was the one he had forgotten in Hogwarts. He was the missing person when Draco was conversing with Ron and Hermione. Harry was the reason Draco did not hate those two any longer. They were all friends because Harry and Draco were partners. Harry and Draco had had a daughter together and then Draco had 'died.' Harry had believed Draco to be dead and was left alone to raise their daughter.

If he had not been in such a rush to see his _daughter_ he would have taken the time to sit out the sudden spell of dizziness the revelations had just given him. He pulled on a set of robes. "I have to see her. Take me to see her, Pansy."

"I'll see what I can arrange," she answered and hurried from the room.

An hour later, Pansy Apparated both of them to a ramshackle of a house. Draco looked up at it and a feeling of deep nostalgia washed over him. He had been here before. "What a dump," he muttered. "I do hope Ayida hasn't been staying _here_."

"I fancy Harry would not appreciate you belittling his parents' house," Pansy said lightly, squeezing their linked arms.

Draco tried not to let her comment get to him. With Harry in the hospital, it was difficult to be hateful towards him. He worried passionately about Harry, but still, deep down he could feel resentment and anger simmering. No, he had not forgotten how Harry had lied to him for so long. "Come along," she said when he did not answer. "I told Molly Weasley we would be here by now. I'd forgotten how long you take primping."

"I wasn't primping," Draco said as Pansy knocked. "You practically burned my hair off when you took the dye out, you know. I had to fix the damage."

"If you hadn't dyed it in the first place, we would not have had that problem."

Draco sniffed haughtily and stared resolutely at the door, his shoulders straightening as he heard footsteps approaching from within. At the moment, he did not need to think of why he had dyed his hair. Nobody had told him anything about his mother and what she had to do with this whole mess. Well… he knew, but denial was a wonderful state of mind to be in. One thing at a time, he thought. There had been so much else to take in already in the past twenty-odd hours.

The door opened to reveal a short, plump woman with flaming red hair, a woman he recognised only as the Weasley mother. Draco knew on his first glance that he had liked her. He felt the strangest urge to hug her. He settled on a nervous smile. "Oh!" she exclaimed airily as if she had just had the biggest shock of her life. "Oh, Draco!" she gasped, tears coming to her eyes. "Oh, and Mrs. Finnigan… goodness, come in, dears!"

Draco thanked her quietly and disengaging from Pansy, stepped in. Immediately, he was engulfed in her arms, her chin barely coming past his shoulder. "Oh!" Draco exclaimed in surprise, and awkwardly returned the hug. She kissed his cheek.

"Oh, Draco!" she breathed out and pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with the apron she wore. "I've known you were alive since Harry left – Ron told me – but I've found it so hard to believe until now." Draco glanced at Pansy, and not knowing what to say, shrugged with a small, lost smile. "Are you two hungry? I could whip something up."

"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Draco said politely. "I've only just eaten."

"Tea then?"

"I could have a cuppa," Pansy smiled. Draco nodded reluctantly in agreement, but was preoccupied with looking around the well-worn kitchen. Wasn't Ayida supposed to be here somewhere? With Molly busily sitting them down and insisting they call her Molly, Draco had no time to inquire after his daughter (a silent thrill of excitement shot through him at the thought – his _daughter_).

The conversation over the next several minutes seemed to be deliberately steered from anything that Draco might have upset from. They spoke mostly of the changes at Hogwarts and the Ministry. Draco hardly listened. He sat on the edge of his seat attempting to strain his neck to look into the next room. Surely Ayida was in there? When Molly had finished her tea, she set her cup down and looked at Draco.

"You're much quieter than I remember, Draco. You have always been so outspoken."

Draco turned his attention to her. "I still am," he smiled kindly. "Only there's a lot on my mind right now. I have had a lot of information to take in this morning."

"Yes," Molly said sadly. "I suppose you are wondering where Ayida is?"

"Yes," he perked up. "I would really like to see her."

"She's sleeping. She has been quite distressed since Harry failed to call. I just don't know how to tell her that her daddy's been injured. Arthur was quite at a loss as well. At any rate, she's been sleeping for almost two hours. She should be up soon, I suspect."

Nodding, Draco drained the last of his tea. "I suppose it will be up to the new guy to break it to her about Harry then."

"You don't have to if you don't want to, Draco. We wouldn't make that your first difficult task as a parent to do."

"I have to start somewhere, don't I? It just… well, it will be a lot for her to process, won't it? Seeing me again and then hearing that the dad she's always known is seriously injured."

"Harry told us about your first meeting with her, Draco," Molly said. "We've been easing her into the idea that you really are alive, and she's been very accepting of it. She's a smart girl, and I think the fact that she had seen you already gave her reason to believe it easier."

They heard a thump above their heads and Molly stood up. "She's awake. I'll bet her ears were ringing." Chuckling, she exited the room. Draco glanced across the table at Pansy, biting his lip.

"She'll hate me," he whispered. "I made a little boy cry one time when I smiled at him."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I doubt it was anything you did. Ayida will love you. Children have this thing about loving their parents unconditionally."

"Yeah, well… I haven't been around," he muttered darkly as they heard Molly descending the stairs.

"There's somebody here waiting to meet you," Molly was saying quietly. "He's so excited."

Draco turned sideways in his chair so that he was facing the doorway they were about to appear in. "Daddy?" a tiny voice inquired. _That's her_, Draco thought, scooting to the edge of his chair. Molly appeared in the door then, Ayida at her side, holding hands. Her blonde hair was in wild disarray, and she held a tattered purple blanket to her chin as she surveyed the kitchen. She held eyes with Pansy for a few moments before looking to Draco. Her eyes widened fractionally and then her chin lowered to her chest shyly. Draco felt as if he had been delivered a blow to his chest. That was his daughter!

"Go on," Molly urged her, letting Ayida's hand drop. The now free hand grasped the other end of the blanket and brought it to cover her mouth. The silence was thick as father and daughter stared at each other, neither one seeming able to do anything. Draco knew, however, that he would have to say something first. Ayida was little. She needed to be made to understand the situation clearly, and it was his job.

"Hi, Ayida," he said after a deep breath. He smiled. She uncovered her mouth for a fraction of a second to flash a brief smile. "Do you know who I am?"

She nodded, but did not say anything. Draco slipped from the chair to sit on his heels a few feet from her. She continued to stand motionless. "You want to know a secret?" he whispered conspiratorially, glancing around the room. She nodded hesitantly. "I know who you are too. You're that pesky niffler that's been let loose in my kitchen."

Ayida's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "You're not?" Draco scratched his head. "But you look so much like it. It has messy, blonde hair that sticks up all over the place, big eyes, and a purple blanket. And you know what it does? It _pokes_ around in places it shouldn't be." As he said it, he enunciated his words by sticking his finger in Ayida's armpit and tickling her. "Like that." She squirmed and giggled. "On its really busy nights it leaves the kitchen and pokes all over, like this." He tickled both armpits and then moved to her belly and under her neck, and behind her knees until she was breathless with laugher.

"'Top! 'Top!" she yelled through breathless laughter. She had dropped her blanket and was squirming closer to Draco instead of away. Draco abruptly stopped and stared at her inquisitively. Her face got serious and she put a hand in front of Draco's face to show she wanted him to stop. "No niffer!" she cried.

"You maintain that you're not the niffler then?" Draco asked seriously.

She nodded vigorously.

He scratched his chin. "If you're not the niffler, then who are you?"

Putting a hand to her chest, she bowed her head slightly. "I Ayida," she said matter of fact.

"Ayida?" Draco exclaimed. "How silly of me to mistake you for a niffler!" He covered his forehead with his palm. "I'm so embarrassed!"

Ayida giggled shyly. "Me like being silly," she shrugged as if to make him feel better.

"That's good," Draco nodded. "I won't have a girl who doesn't like being silly."

She edged closer to him and looked around the room. "Daddy wityou?" she slurred her words together.

Glancing up at Pansy and Molly, Draco bit his lip and stood up. "Come with me, Ayida. I want to talk to you." After a moment looking up at his big hand, she put hers into it and let him lead them into the living room. Pansy and Molly rightly stayed in the kitchen, but Draco noticed, they stayed quite still and silent. As if she had done it all her life, she climbed into his lap when he sat. Draco summoned her blanket and let her cuddle with it so that she felt comfortable.

"Daddy talks to you a lot about me and shows you lots of pictures of me, doesn't he?" When she nodded, he tucked the errant hair behind her ears. "And…" he paused. There was really no way for him to ascertain what Harry had told her. "Well, he's told you what a special girl you are because you have two daddies, right?"

"All da time," she nodded. "He daddy, you fadder."

"That's right. I just want to tell you that I'm going to be around a lot more now. You're going to see me all the time. I'm sorry that you haven't known me, but one day when you're a little older, daddy and I will tell you why I've been away. It's a long story, and it's complicated. I don't even understand it all yet. But it's not important right now. What's important is that I'm here now and you and I can get to know each other." Draco thought he sounded like an idiot. He had not one clue how to speak to a four year old child. Was he speaking above her level? Could she even understand what he was saying? However, she was nodding along with everything that he said, and had perked up quite a bit at hearing he would be around now.

Haltingly, he kissed her temple. When she dropped her blanket into her lap and attacked him with a rough hug around his neck, Draco gave a silent sob of air. This still did not seem real. When had this become his life? At any moment now, he would jerk awake and find that he was still in San Juan with no daughter, no ailing husband. Harry Potter had never come into his life just as he had believed a month ago. Then Ayida kissed his cheek and he knew that he did not want to wake up. He did not want to let this go, not this small child who was _his_. He knew he had never loved anybody more in his entire life, even Harry. He was positive of it. If he had loved Harry this much, he would remember it.

"I love you," he murmured and kissed her cheek.

She sat back in his lap and pressed her chin shyly to her chest again. For a moment, she did nothing and then she sighed. "Daddy coming?"

"No, he's not coming today, Ayida. I'm sorry."

She frowned heavily, her eyes welling with tears. "Why?"

"Because daddy was hurt really badly yesterday. He's being taken care of by the healers right now, and to get better, he needs to sleep. They've put him to sleep and only when he's better will he wake up. So, no Ayida, daddy can't come until he's all better."

"He's sick?"

"No, somebody cursed him with their wand. It was a bad person and when they're caught, they'll be punished for doing that to daddy. But he'll be okay."

Her bottom lip quivered and Draco automatically knew the next question. "We'll go see him tomorrow, but you'll have to remember that unless he wakes up, he can't talk to you. You can talk to him though. I think he'll be able to hear you and he would like that very much."

"Me draw daddy pitue," she said, a stubborn set to her face and she bounded from his lap. Draco could only watch helplessly to see what she was doing. He had no idea what to do from here. Despite everything, he wanted for Harry to wake up so badly. A bubble rose painfully in his throat. He had no idea what he was doing and he was scared.

It was well past dinner (Arthur Weasley had arrived home a few hours earlier and Molly had gone straight to making dinner, insisting that Draco and Pansy stay), and Ayida was yawning widely. They were seated in the living room, having just finished the tea Molly had set out for them. Pansy stood up with a long yawn and straightened her hair.

"I think it would be a good idea for us to head back to my house, Draco," she announced.

Draco, who had just settled into a rocking chair with Ayida (she had asked him to rock her and tell a story), stopped from brushing her hair aside. "Oh," he said, his heart sinking like a rock. "I… yeah, I su –"

"Nonsense!" Molly exclaimed, flying up from her chair. "He'll stay here tonight, of course. He can help put Ayida to bed." Pansy made to object, but Molly put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "It will be fine. Draco and Ayida need time together, don't they, the poor dears."

Arthur looked up over his copy of _The Evening Prophet_, which had not gotten wind of Harry's stay at the hospital quite yet. "She's quite right, Draco. You're welcome here."

"Really?" Draco asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. Really, the house was not so bad. It was rather homey and familiar to him. "It wouldn't be a burden for you?"

"Don't be silly, Draco," Molly waved him off. "You're always welcome here, as Arthur said, and _don't_ worry, Pansy. I know you've been placed in charge of him, but he's a grown man and he has every right to know everything that has happened to him, and who exactly has been behind it."

"I didn't say he didn't have a right," Pansy defended herself. "I told you before that there hasn't been time to tell him everything."

Draco looked back and forth between the two. Apparently they had been speaking while he had been otherwise occupied with Ayida. "Stop it," he said firmly. "I do want to know everything, but right now, Ayida is foremost on my mind. I want to rock her and tell her a story and then I want to put her to bed. Then I want her to be the first person I see when I wake up. Is that really so much to ask?" He stared pointedly at Pansy who balked.

"Fine, but if Shacklebolt shouts, I'll tell him I'm under the influence of Imperius."

"You'll say no such thing!" Molly wagged her finger. "We have enough to be getting on with as it is."

Draco grinned as Pansy backed away. "It was only a joke, Molly," she said reproachfully.

"It's not funny, and I won't detail you with why because your generation should know exactly why it isn't! Now, it's Ayida's bedtime."

"I can hear a dismissal when it's given," Pansy said jokingly. "I'll send your things straight over, Draco." She approached to give his and Ayida's head a kiss and bid farewells to the Weasleys.

Ayida ended up giving Draco a book for him to read because he was so lousy at making up a story, and after the story, Molly helped ready the little girl for bed. Molly left as Ayida climbed into bed. Now was the easiest part. Draco dimmed the lights with a wave of his hand and knelt be the bedside.

"Do you want me to stay a little while?" Draco asked, pulling her covers up her chest. She nodded, her eyes locked on his face.

"Me like you a lot, fadder," she said quietly.

Draco felt his chest swell. "I like you a lot too, little one."

She smiled shyly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'm sleeping here tonight. We'll eat breakfast together."

"Good. Kiss." She puckered her lips and stuck her chin up expectantly. Draco laughed quietly and kissed her.

"Goodnight. I love you," he whispered and kissed her cheek. Returning the sentiment, she turned over and closed her eyes. Draco scooted back on the floor and leaned against the dresser. He sat there for a long time until he heard Ayida's breathing even out. Still, he had a difficult time tearing his eyes away from the tiny lump she made beneath the blankets, and the steady rise and fall of her chest. He could not believe that he had helped to create her. She was beautiful. She was perfect. It took all his effort to not think on how much he had missed of her life. His heart ached with the thought. He had to forcefully push the thought from his mind by thinking of the very first present to buy her. Perhaps it would be a belated birthday present.

As Draco was descending the stairs minutes later, he heard a knock sound at the front door. He stopped at the closest landing to the bottom floor and listened hard. Molly seemed to have answered the door because it was her surprised voice that carried to the stairs. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "What a surprise this is. Please come in!"

Draco strained his neck to hear what the visitor said, but his voice was quiet and too deep to distinguish. He crept down yet more stairs. The visitor seemed to be explaining something to Molly, but only at the end of his short speech did Draco catch a few words. "It's been an exhausting night. Potter looks a wreck, the idiot."

"Oh!" Draco exclaimed quietly, his heart giving a leap for joy. He knew that voice. He knew it better than he knew Harry's voice. Better yet, he trusted that voice beyond anybody's in the world. The blond bounded down the rest of the steps and flew into the kitchen, stopping a few paces in. He felt as though his face would break with the grin plastered there. "Severus!" he exclaimed, his voice coming in a breathless laugh.

Severus Snape was removing his cloak and handing it to Molly. He looked much the same to Draco as he always had, with long, greasy hair (though there were a few silver strands running through it now), hooked nose, sallow skin, and a sour expression on his face. However, when Severus turned to look, his face coloured and his eyes widened. "Pansy said…" he began but trailed off, shaking his head. "You and Potter, I am sure will be the death of me. Why did you ever have to start associating with him in the first place?"

Draco's grin grew wider and he shrugged. "I don't remember."

Severus studied him for a moment and nodded slightly. "Actually, I seem to remember something of why you did, but I don't want to lay the blame on anybody right now." He shifted, an obscure look flitting across his face that Draco was sure he was the only one in the room who understood what it meant. Severus was at least partially guilty of him and Harry coming together. Draco grinned harder.

"Would you like some tea, Severus?" Molly offered.

"No, thank you. Pansy sent for me and gave me this bag of things to escort here," he held up Draco's bag.

"You're welcome to stay and visit for as long as you like," Molly said kindly. "As for Arthur and I, we'll be heading off to bed if you need anything. Draco, I'll make up your room across from Ayida's. I hope you don't mind pink. It was Ginny's room."

"Pink is fine," Draco shrugged, the grin still tugging at his mouth.

Molly bid them goodnight and left the room. The air was filled with thick silence as the two turned to stare at each other. Severus studied Draco with the manner of watching a temperamental potion. He approached the blond carefully, stopping only when he was a breath away. Draco suddenly felt like a child again, the way Severus still towered above him (he was actually only a few inches taller, but it felt like much more to Draco), and the way he glared down. "Are you quite finished?" Severus asked severely, a tone in which he took only in his classroom.

The tone sent shivers down Draco's spine. He was sure he would be running in the opposite direction if he had not grown up with this man. "With what?"

"Grinning like a buffoon."

"I'm not…" Draco stopped. He was still grinning. "Well, if you want me to."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Now would be a good time to do so."

Draco chuckled. "I'm sorry. I heard you in here and… I don't know who I can really trust anymore, and I've always been able to trust you completely." Draco clenched his teeth together to keep from saying what he most wanted to say. He would feel foolish if he were to say it.

"I know, Draco," Severus nodded, his severe stance loosening slightly as he grasped Draco's shoulder. The blond expelled a harsh breath and deciding not to care, leaned against the other man. He did not bring his arms around Severus' waist in a hug; he merely leaned his forehead against his shoulder as if the world had finally beaten the life from him. Severus awkwardly gave him a one-armed hug around his shoulders.

"I can't believe I never came to you," Draco whispered fiercely. "I was such an idiot. You would have told me anything I had wanted to know even if I had been convicted of some hideous crime. I know you would have. I'm sorry I didn't come, Severus."

"I do not hold it against you, Draco. You were blind to what was happening to you."

"Even so," Draco mumbled. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here now."

"Yes. We mustn't dwell on what should have happened. Let's sit down and have a small chat, shall we?" Draco pulled away and nodded.

Over the next few hours, Severus and Draco filled each other in on everything that had happened. Severus filled in the holes Draco needed to find and Draco informed Severus of where he had been and what he had been doing all this time. Towards the end of their conversation, Severus admitted that he had only learned of Draco's survival when Harry had been admitted to St. Mungo's. The Healers had been in desperate need of a potion that had been rumoured that only Severus was able to brew. So, he had been called in to examine Harry; only after this did Hermione and Ron fill him in on what had been happening. Severus, himself, had been keeping a close eye on Harry's healing process since he had been called, hardly taking any time to sleep for fear that Harry would relapse and his organs would begin to shut down.

By the time their conversation had begun to lose its momentum, Draco's mind was brimming with information that he did not know how he was to deal. He felt as though it was somebody else's life that he had been talking about all night, but it was not so. He kept pinching his leg under the table so that just maybe he would wake up and find that his own mother had not betrayed him in such a horrible way. Not only was his throat brimming with rage at Narcissa, but at Harry as well. Yes, Draco knew that Harry had been obligated not to tell him anything, but if Harry had loved him even a little bit, he would have gone against those orders and said something. Draco would have listened! He would have helped the investigation against Narcissa! Now it was too late. Narcissa had disappeared after she had attacked Harry. The Aurors were still looking for her.

"Have you been remembering anything?" Severus asked after they had fallen silent for a few minutes.

Draco looked up from tracing patterns in the tabletop. "I think I have been. Why?"

"Through dreams, waking moments? When?"

"Dreams mostly. Sometimes I close my eyes and get flashes of something."

Severus nodded. "Obviously the fact that you are remembering anything at all is a great sign. I know the potion that Narcissa used on you. It is thorough, the potion, if made correctly. Chances are that the recipient will never remember what was targeted with a properly brewed potion."

"Are you saying that that potion wasn't brewed correctly?" Draco asked hopefully.

"It's a possibility, but I would not put all of our hopes on that. The mere fact that you were an unwilling recipient could be a huge factor. The mind can give up – forget – but it can fight as well. I think your mind is fighting and has been since the very beginning. Tell me if you can remember: what was your first thought upon seeing Potter a few weeks ago?"

Draco blinked, putting himself back in that hotel room, pushing past Matthew towards the voice which had granted him entrance. He turned to look. Harry was standing nervously. His hair was in disarray and his clothes were not thought through. His eyes were wide and green, and his cheeks flushed. He had licked his lips a lot. Draco's heart skipped a beat.

"I wanted him," Draco said, his voice scratchy from sudden lack of saliva. He cleared his throat and swallowed numerous times to get his glands working again. "He looked so completely silly, like a little puppy – his eyes were so wide – and I wanted him. So bad." Draco shifted, realising suddenly that he had a problem in his lap. He licked his lips and tried to remind himself that he was pissed at Harry. However, his smaller, second brain did not seem to mind.

"That could be a start then," Severus nodded. "Physical attraction is not unheard of at first sight, granted –"

"It was more," Draco blurted before he realised what he was saying. "I know it now. It was more than that. I was attracted to him, but something else was telling me that there was more."

Severus contemplated him for a moment. "Then I think you have a chance. Now an improperly brewed potion, if that is the case, could pose a potential problem. It can harm the brain more than a properly brewed one. It can cause slight brain damage and if there is anything there to recover, could render it impossible. Your memories would then be distorted and not worth retrieving. Understand what I am saying?"

"I'm not an invalid, brain damage or not," Draco retorted.

"I am just making sure. I know a healer and I have already contacted him with the story, and he is willing to treat you. If you are willing. Nobody is forcing you to do anything."

"If his treatments work, what will I stand to gain?" Draco asked cautiously.

"Your life, for one. He does not promise full recovery, but he can promise that he will get at least some of your memories back. Given that you have already remembered a few things, you seem promising. Draco, I should tell you that his treatments are not painless. He requires you see him at least for two hours, four times a week. I will be working with him in order to ascertain what the extent of the damage is."

Draco blinked, staring hard at the table. "If I do this and I remember, would I remember Ayida at all?"

"You will remember the pregnancy," Severus shook his head. "That is all. Draco, keep in mind that you will have so much more. You will have memories of Potter."

Draco felt his ire rising. "But I won't have Ayida!" he said fiercely, leaning over the table towards the other man. "I missed her whole life! I don't care about Harry; I just want Ayida! He can rot for all I care! He can go rot in Azkaban with my mother!"

"I know you don't mean that, because you know that Potter did not do anything wrong."

"He kept me from the truth just as Narcissa did. If it means the only thing I will remember is Harry, then I won't go. I won't receive treatments."

Sighing, Severus pushed himself up from his chair. "You are acting no better than a first year Hufflepuff. Go to bed, and we will talk another day."

"I can't help that I hate him."

Severus ignored him and reached inside an inner pocket. "I took to carrying this a few months ago. I don't know why…." He flipped what seemed to be a spot of golden light through the air. Draco caught it on instinct and looked at it as it sat in the palm of his hand. It was a ring made of wizards' gold. It had three emeralds embedded into the top, and the ring was glowing, dim, but bright at the same time. "It's yours," Severus said quietly. "Narcissa had me over for a visit one day and I took the liberty of going through her dresser. I found that and decided to keep it, though I cannot explain why I would want it. Potter has one just like it, though I don't know where his is and why he does not wear it anymore." At Draco's continued silence, Severus went on. "I noticed it began to glow a few weeks ago, but I could not understand why. It's brighter than I have ever seen it, even before you disappeared."

Something within Draco's chest gave a pull and he found himself breathing hard. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto his left ring finger and practically sobbed with relief. Severus 'hmphed' and swung his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp. "You hate him about as much as you hate Ayida. You are welcome to change your mind at any time about the treatment. It is time to grow up and realise that Harry did you a favour by doing all he could. He could not tell you the whole truth, so he let you get to know him again. It may be hard for you to find out all of this, but think about how hard it was for him to keep up the act for so many weeks." Severus sniffed, looking down at Draco's bowed head. "I believe you would be surprised to see Harry's ring. I doubt it has ever stopped glowing."

The older man went to the door and stopped as he began to step through the open door. "Think on it, Draco."

Draco did not know how long he sat at the table in a numb haze, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the ring, nor did he remember when he decided to jump up and run up the stairs. Molly was exiting the bathroom and jumped in surprise when Draco bounded up onto the landing. "Goodness, Draco, dear is something wrong?"

"I just…" he glanced up the stairs towards where Ayida's room was. "I need to go for a walk. I'll be back soon."

"That's fine, just be careful, all right?"

Nodding absently, he turned and bounded back down the stairs. Minutes later he appeared in front of the building which looked like a department store and having a brief chat with the mannequin, stepped through the glass. The waiting room was near empty with only two wizards who seemed to have attached their heads together and a healer who was trying to make sense of their words. Draco squinted at them, attempting to understand the gibberish that was spewing from both of their mouths. Shaking his head, Draco scanned the room and slinked to the door without notice. After reading numerous signs and assuming where Harry might be, Draco wound his way through corridors, dodging healers and patients out of bed until finally he came to a closed door on the Spell Damage ward. A small sign outside proclaimed: "None of your business who's in here! Family only!"

Draco glanced down at his ring. "Lifetime pass," he murmured and glancing both ways to make sure the coast was clear, pushed the door open.

It was dark within the room. The shades on the window were drawn tightly closed, and there were no lamps to light the way for the night shift healers. Draco supposed they had special spells to light their way. The room was rather large and when Draco's eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that it held a rather alarming amount of flowers. The bed was in the centre of the room and a chair was set on either side of it. Draco chose the one closest to the door and folded his feet beneath his thighs. He only allowed himself to look at Harry once he was situated. It was too dark to really get a good look, so Draco lit a soft, pale light within his hands and let it wash gently over Harry's face.

Harry looked as dreadful as Draco had imagined. He was alarmingly pale. Though his wounds were on the inside, Draco felt like he could see every part of Harry that hurt through the pallor of his face and chest, which was visible through a night shirt that had been left partially open. Draco thought that there was almost a greenish tint to his skin, and it made Draco shift his eyes away. He had never seen anybody look so absolutely sick…. And he suddenly wished he had never come.

However, he forced himself to look and to think about what had driven him to come here. He thought about the ring that was now wrapped around his finger and how strong it glowed, though Harry was so sick and virtually on the brink of death. Draco was no idiot. He knew how wizards' gold worked. The thought of how much Harry must really love him sent a burst of warmth through his chest. "Harry," he murmured his voice scratchy. He cleared his throat. "Harry, I really, really… hate you right now." The words surprised the blond as they left his mouth, but he knew with conviction that they were true. "I hate you."

Laughing nervously, he licked his lips and continued to fight to look at the other man. Harry was breathing shallowly now and Draco had to fight to keep his hands from shaking. "I've always kind of wondered that, you know – if comatose people can hear all the time. I mean you're already asleep, aren't you? Do you sleep sometimes and that's when you can't hear, and when you're 'awake,' is that when you hear? And if that's true, then I wonder if you're awake now and if you're listening to me. I wouldn't want to be listening to me right now. I sound like those two fools down in the waiting room who fused their heads together." Draco laughed humourlessly and looked to his lap for a moment. "Never mind. It was just something I saw down in the waiting room on my way up. Anyway, I don't…" He breathed in deep a few times. "I don't know why I'm here right now. I don't know anything really. I've had so little time to digest any of this information that's been coming at me the past few days. I can't really think about any of it for longer than a few minutes without wanting to break my fist through a wall.

"It's not as though I have anybody to talk to about it anyway. I did speak to Severus tonight, but I can't really make him understand what I'm going through. I don't even know if you would understand it. Harry, I hate you for keeping all this from me. I know you were forced to, but if you know me so fucking well, you should have known that I would have helped to get my mother arrested!" Draco realised that he was raising his voice and quickly stopped to take a few calming breaths.

"I hate you for it," he said quieter now. "So, really, I don't know what I'm doing here, or what I'm going to do when I leave. I suppose that… that the only thing I'm sure of right now is Ayida. And… and I think that the only reason you'll see me is her. I promised her I would be around now. You know though, that she really loves you. She asks for you constantly, and she drew you a picture earlier today."

The blond fell silent again for a few minutes. Harry's breathing was as shallow as ever. Draco felt himself begin to shake as he stared. Harry was _so_ sick. "Maybe that's why I'm here," Draco announced quietly, his voice shaking. "Ayida. She's probably why I'm here. Maybe I'm being ridiculous, but it's obvious she loves you more than me. She would never stand for it if you died. She wouldn't want me to raise her. I'm rubbish with children." Draco felt his throat tighten. "Besides, she loves you. So… you know that you can't die, Harry. For Ayida's sake, you can't die. And… and I'll come around here only because I think it will make you feel better to have me here and then maybe you'll come out of this coma."

Clenching his teeth, Draco stopped his flow of what he thought were idiotic words, and without thinking, threw the ball of light up in the air where it peacefully hovered while he grasped Harry's hand. It was death cold, but Draco forced himself to hold it between his hands. Harry needed his warmth. Many minutes passed – Draco did not know how many and did not spare a thought towards time – before Harry's hand began to feel a little warmer. Draco thought that it might be a good time to leave, but then he looked at his ring and saw it glowing. Draco stared. Was it glowing just a little brighter than before? He looked up to Harry's face. He did not look any different from just a few minutes ago.

"Well," Draco swallowed, his mouth feeling as though his glands had stopped working once again. "I'll stay just a little longer if you promise it will make you warm again." He stared for a few moments, almost expecting Harry to give some sort of sign that he understood what he was trying to say. "Okay then," Draco nodded. "I'll take that for a positive answer. It's for Ayida's sake anyway," he hurried to add. "You'll have to keep that in mind, Harry." Draco bit his lip. He did not understand what was happening to him. His heart was aching, _yearning_ to reach out and hold Harry, to kiss him, to do something more than just sit here and hold his hand. Yet his mind told him to keep a goodly distance. It was for the better. Harry had betrayed him after all.

Draco let out a short, desperate laugh. "You'll have to quit acting like a lovesick fool, Harry. You know it won't make you any better." He unfolded his legs and toed off his shoes. "I will stay a little longer, but you'll have to stop feeling like that really. It's a bit ridiculous. You're cold, aren't you?"

Tentatively he reached out and flattened his palm against Harry's chest. It was clammy. Why they would open Harry's pyjamas like that was beyond him. He carefully closed the buttons and without offering any excuses to either himself or Harry, he climbed onto the soft bed beside Harry and wrapped himself around the other man. "You can sleep now, Harry," he whispered, his lips brushing the skin beneath Harry's ear. "I'm here. And I know it makes you feel better. Look how easy you breathe now. Goodnight, Harry."

At last, Draco extinguished the light and fell silent. He did not let himself think about how relaxed he now was and how truly much better he felt. He would not let the thought in, because if it was not there, it was not real. Instead, he let Harry's gentle breathing calm him, and the soft, black outline of his hand on Harry's chest lull him into a sense of security. He would fall asleep quickly and sleep better than he had in a very long time.

"My goodness, what do you suppose we should do with him?"

"That much should be obvious, shouldn't it? We wake him, put boils on his arse and send him on his way."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's obviously a close friend of his," said the first voice uneasily. "You know that he's… well…" She lowered her voice and as Draco blinked his eyes open, he could almost imagine the woman to be looking around conspiratorially. "_Gay_."

"No need to whisper, ladies," he drawled, his face still stuck between Harry's arm and chest. "Being gay isn't necessarily an affliction that puts a man on his deathbed. In fact, I find I rather like being stuck up –"

"Really!" the second voice exclaimed. "That will be quite enough from you, Mister. Just who do you think you are to sneak in here and sleep with a seriously ill patient?"

Draco smirked in satisfaction, finishing out the long catlike stretch he had been in the middle of before he had been interrupted by the second voice. "I have a lifelong pass to Harry's bed," he popped his head up and stared them down. They were standing with their backs pressed against the door, obviously having closed it upon realising that there was an intruder in the room. No doubt they were scared that a supervisor would find they had slipped in part of their duty. "No matter where that bed may be."

The short, young healer gasped as she caught sight of his face, putting a hand over her mouth. She was rather pretty with dark, brown hair that was in ringlets all around her head. The other healer looked to be about twenty years her senior and appeared almost hawkish in appearance. "I really did not plan on staying long," Draco sat up with a yawn and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "But my husband talked me into staying." For a moment, he blinked at his choice of words, a weird sort of thrill racing through him.

"You're Draco Malfoy," the younger healer sputtered.

Draco slipped on his shoes and began lacing them up. "If you say so."

"But you're dead," she insisted.

"Am I really?" Draco replied in feigned interest and stood.

"Then are you some sort of… of corporeal ghost, or something?"

He shrugged. "If you want me to be."

She blinked owlishly at him while the other glared fiercely. Draco approached them. "Look, I expect I'll be back later today with my daughter. Will you two be here?"

"Our shift ends in five minutes and you most certainly will be leaving before us."

"What time is it then?" Draco ignored the nasty comment.

"It's about seven," the much nicer healer said haltingly.

He nodded. That explained why there was just a little light coming through the window now. When he reached out to open the door, the two scattered away from him. He smiled back at them. "Really, one would think you've never seen a homosexual ghost before. A corporeal one at that. Bye Harry!" he called over their shoulders. "Nice talking to you. Next time, I hope you have more to say. You're rather boring when you're supine."

With that, he swept from the room in a flourish, leaving the two healers alone to stare in wonderment at each other.

**Post A/N:** Please leave a review! I don't want to sound like an idiot, but seriously, it helps me write. I have had a hard time writing this story all summer and I didn't want to post anything until I started receiving a deluge of reviews in the past weeks. It's so great hearing what y'all think! So please, drop a line, even if it's one word! I love it all!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes: **Sorry for the incredibly long wait. School was incredibly busy and I had absolutely no time to even think of this fic. However, finals are over and I'm intent on posting at least two chapters (this one included) before January 16, 2007. Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, and have been so incredibly patient. A big thanks as always to my beta, PadfootsBitch.

Also, there are some quotes from Sorceror's Stone. The quotations are italicized and, of course, those words do not belong to me. The rest does. The characters do not. Of course. :-)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Lacuna  
**_Chapter Ten  
.:.:.:.:._

Over the next week, the presses were ablaze with Draco's survival and the attack Harry had taken. Draco made sure to keep his head low, only emerging late at night when he went to visit Harry's bedside. The nurses, even the hawk-like woman, had all agreed to keep his visits top secret (including from their supervisors). So, it was with their help that he arrived around eleven, slept with Harry until half past six and then snuck away while the sun was still down. On his third night visiting, the mean hawkish nurse (whom he had come to know as Matilda) confided in him that she only allowed his visits because Harry's condition seemed to improve once he had left the first night. Many nurses hypothesized that Harry had been heartsick (having not known that the two had already seen each other previously) at not having his husband and did not want to fight to live until Draco showed up.

Needless to say, Draco had had a very difficult time not scoffing in the woman's face for suggesting such an idiotic notion.

As for Draco, he did not notice any change in Harry's condition. He was still comatose, still pale and sickly looking, and really, that was all that mattered. Once Harry started _looking_ better, then he was _getting _better.

The Weasleys continued to let him bunk at their house, though they also knew nothing of his nightly escapades. Molly merely thought he was a night wanderer when he said he was going for a walk. Ayida was continually warming to Draco every day, and Draco would not tell anybody, but he always felt a little bit smug when she chose him over somebody she had known her whole life…. Not to mention just a little bit warm in the chest. It was difficult not to squeeze her so hard that she complained. However, most times than not, when she hugged him, he did not want to let go. He usually compromised by squeezing a little harder than she would like and then kissing her face all over. It boggled his mind how he could have lived without _this_ for so long, and it made his heart ache even more at the fact that he had missed her whole life.

Presently, as Draco released her from his hug, he ruffled her hair and patted her once on the backside. "Love you," he smiled at her. She turned and looked at him as though he were a bit dim.

"You say that all the time," she said and then stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, I do. I love you lots," he grinned and stuck his tongue out.

"Love you, too," she replied in a long suffering voice and then she scurried into the kitchen where Molly was making a dessert for later. Draco sighed in content and leaned back against the couch.

"Funny how children do that, isn't it?" Arthur Weasley asked from his chair across the room. Draco found it somewhat difficult to speak with a man who was so obsessed with Muggle things, so most times said nothing around or to Arthur. It was not that he did not like him; Draco just found it hard to think of things to say about plugs. However, this seemed like a line of conversation that Draco would be able to follow.

"Do what?"

"Make grown men revert to children," Arthur smiled.

"Oh, I don't know," Draco said a playful glint to his eyes. "I've met a few handfuls of men who don't need children around to act like them."

"Truer words never spoken," Molly piped up as she entered. "A fine example would be the young man on his way over. Arthur, Ron and Hermione will be here for dinner. They have wanted so badly to see Draco. I hope you don't mind, Draco."

Draco tried not to let show the sudden tension he felt . How was he to act with these people? In his memory, he had done nothing but torment and hate them. Now here he was, thrown into an alternate reality where he knew nothing of liking them. He forced a smile. "I don't mind. Besides, it's your home." What could they possibly have to talk about? Draco fretted. They would want to talk about what he had been doing all these years away from England. But did he really want to talk about that? No, not really. Would they ask him what he thought about Harry? He hoped not, because he did not want to talk about that either. How would he answer any of their questions?

"_Oh, I'm afraid that when he wakes up, he will be terribly heartbroken to find that I'm not in the least bit interested. The only interest I have in him is his life with Ayida. That's all. I don't love him anymore. I don't even remember him. In fact, I would like to say that right now, I almost hate him for what he kept from me. He lied and betrayed me. He made me trust him."_

Draco mentally shook his head. Of course he would not say that. Even he was not that callous.

So, over the next hour Draco sat silently, fretting his impending meeting. Ayida did not say a word to him when she frequently entered the room as though she knew that something was bothering him. When the sounds of Apparition echoed from outside, Draco thanked his lucky stars that Arthur had gone into the kitchen minutes earlier, as he dashed as quietly as he could up the stairs to the bathroom. Once inside, he leaned against the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"Don't look so glum, child. You look quite put together," the mirror admonished him. "Quite splendid indeed."

"Shut up," Draco muttered and ran his fingers through the length of his hair. It was getting rather long, he thought. It now swung easily over his shoulders and because it was so fine, knotted easily. His fingers caught the snags and pulled on his scalp. He wiggled his nose as it began to itch.

Voices from below startled his attention to the door for a few moments, and only when they died down did Draco look back to the mirror. He did not know why he was so anxious, did not know why he had found refuge in the bathroom. It was quite rude and his mother would be…. Draco stopped. He did not care what his mother would have thought. Smoothing down his robes, though they contained no wrinkles, Draco took a deep breath.

"Steady on," he murmured. "They're not Harry. They're just his best friends." He looked into his worried eyes. "Which is exactly why they'll kill me later when Harry tells them what I'm ready to do."

"Draco!" Molly called up the stairs. "Come down, dinner is about to be served!"

Without waiting to dwell on it further, he pulled the door open and descended the stairs. "Sorry," he answered. "I just had to use the loo. Ron and Hermione here then?"

"Just arrived," she beamed as he came into view. "In the kitchen. I just have to nip upstairs for a moment."

Then she was gone and Draco was left to reluctantly head for the kitchen. He stopped, feet from the door listening to the voices that came from within. Ron seemed to be speaking with Arthur, and Draco suddenly just knew that he could not go in there. He did not know these people. He looked around for an escape route.

"Looking for the nearest exit?" asked a voice.

Startled, he looked around to see Hermione approaching him. She was still slightly plump from having a baby, and so grown up from the last memory he had of her. She had grown into a lovely young woman, he thought, and still… he was terrified of her. He blinked at her, attempting a smirk, but failing. "How'd you know?" he asked quietly, a small helpless smile stretching his mouth.

"I know you better than you think I do," she smiled at him.

Draco looked away, suddenly not only terrified but extremely uncomfortable. "Everybody does. Everybody in this house is a stranger to me."

Hermione studied his face for a few moments, her own face thoughtful. "Yet it must be somewhat encouraging to know that there is nobody here with ill feelings towards you. Ron might be a little difficult at the best of times, but he likes you really."

"No, I don't find that encouraging at all actually," Draco admitted ruefully. "The only things I find encouraging in this house is that my daughter is here, and that I don't feel as though I hate you like I remember."

She smiled, cocking her head to the side. "That's a start then, isn't it, Draco?" He shrugged slightly, secretly elating in the fact that somebody had used his real name. Of course, plenty of people had in the past week, but it still sent a thrill through him each time a new person did. He always expected to hear his pseudonym. "It's so good to have you back," she whispered then, her eyes filling with tears. "You have no idea what sort of impact your death had on everybody, especially Harry."

Draco looked to his feet in slight embarrassment. "I didn't die."

Hermione grasped his forearm. "I know. Draco, I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't write back to you a couple weeks ago, and… for everything else. I feel responsible for when you went to Narcissa when we all thought Harry was dead in the first place. Harry had always asked us to look out for you if something should ever happen to him, but you were so adamant about being left alone. We didn't know what to do…."

"Please don't," Draco said quietly. "If it's all the same to you, I don't want to dwell on 'what ifs.' I'll go mad. I hardly even know the full story. Severus filled in the basics, but he wasn't knowledgeable of everything that happened between Harry and me. Also, I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Hermione nodded. "I suppose it's understandable." Taking Draco by complete surprise, she flung her arms around his neck and held on tight. "We have all missed you so much. Nobody but Harry ever thought there was a chance that you were still alive. Someday," she pulled back, wiping tears from her cheeks, "I would like to hear where you've been."

"Someday," he agreed.

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, coming in from the kitchen. He had grown up, as well, Draco thought. He seemed taller, and his freckles seemed to stand out just a little more. His shoulders had broadened and he looked almost frightfully strong, even though he was not overtly muscular. "Bloody hell, mate, you look like you've been brought through the wringer, doesn't he, Hermione?"

"Ron!"

"What? I figure Harry's been stroking his ego enough down there in San Juan."

Draco looked down at himself. "The mirror said I look put together," he mumbled, his face turning red. He hated it when he looked less than his best, and to be pointed out that he looked awful was embarrassing.

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm only joking. But I'm right though, aren't I? Harry's been telling you how dead gorgeous he thinks you are, hasn't he?"

What an awful brute, Draco thought as he stared up into Ron's face. How was it any of his business what Harry had told him? Then again, his competitive streak had lit within him and Draco smirked. "He said I was perfect." It did not matter that Harry had said that after smelling him…. Ah, well, it was all the same, wasn't it?

A slow grin began to break onto Ron's face as if he understood what was going on inside of Draco's head. "Of course he did," he conceded with a nod. "I should have known. C'mon, let's go eat. I'm starving."

Slowly, Draco followed Ron with a growing smile.

It was hours later, a while after Ayida had been put to bed (as well as Al) and Molly and Arthur had retired for the night, when the subject Draco had been avoiding all night finally came up. They were sitting in the living room, each with a wine glass in hand. Their conversation had been about what Hermione and Ron were doing with their careers and what sorts of jobs Draco had held in the past years. He admitted that he had held few as Narcissa had provided for him, until he had acquired the club position a half year ago. He rather liked the work of running a business and thought that perhaps he would open another someday, though he did not know what kind it would be.

A silence had long since fallen and as Draco sipped his wine, he could feel the heavy weight of Ron's eyes on him. The blond tensed in anticipation. He had reasoned to himself that eventually he would have to answer people's questions, and so had decided that perhaps he would favour them one or two answers.

"How much do you remember?" Ron asked in a gush as though he had wanted to ask that particular question all night. Draco supposed he had been.

Sighing, he set his glass down and folded his hands in his lap contemplating how best to answer. After all, how could he answer how much he could remember when he really had no sense of how much he was missing in the first place? "Well," he began slowly, and said as much to them. "Technically, I suppose I'm missing Harry altogether. I don't recall ever meeting him until a few weeks ago. Then again, forgetting one person makes me forget others. For instance, I don't remember getting to know you two. I knew you, certainly, I just don't remember feeling anything other than hatred for you. I don't remember deciding to conceive Ayida. Who knows who or what else I'm missing."

"Have you remembered anything?" Hermione asked, leaning forward in her seat.

"I have remembered a few things. They aren't clear all the time. I mostly remember emotions, mostly feeling happy…." He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the day in the pool. It seemed like such a long time ago. "I remember… I was happy once. I was very happy one time."

"Because you had Harry," Hermione murmured.

Draco shrugged. "Probably."

She sniffed and leaned back in her chair as Ron leaned forward. "Do you love him?"

"I'm sorry?" Draco blinked.

"Do you love him? Do you think you still love Harry?"

"If I answer, are you going to run off and tell him?"

"Firstly, he's comatose –"

"Comatose people can still hear, Ron," Hermione frowned.

"Secondly," Ron ignored her, "I wouldn't if I thought you didn't want us to."

"Well, I don't want anybody to tell him anything. If he hears anything, it'll be from my mouth."

"Of course," Hermione conceded. "You really don't need to tell us anything. It's your business what you feel for him."

Draco stared at his feet for a few moments, deciding that he needed to say it aloud. "I know it's my business, but I think I need to tell somebody what I'm thinking. And what I'm thinking is that…. I don't love him. I care about him, but I don't…." He trailed off and looked away. Hermione's eyes had instantly filled with tears again and Ron had looked away, out the window. Surely, they hated him now.

"Oh," Hermione whispered her voice choked with tears. "Oh, my…. Oh, God, he'll want to die, he'll be so heartbroken."

"I'm sorry. I can't…."

"I don't blame you, Draco!" Hermione said fiercely. "I blame Narcissa. If she had never interfered, you and Harry would be together, perhaps you would have another child, and you would still be so sick in love that you would even make me want to vomit."

Ron let out a bark-like laugh, but immediately stifled it with a cough. Draco looked from him to Hermione. "We were that bad together?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a smile, "it was rather sweet to watch really. Honestly, you two always had your differences, but that's to be expected. You two were just so considerate of each other. Sometimes, I don't think you realised it, but you were. I remember when you were going through therapy. Harry was so worried whenever it was brought up. He gave you whatever you wanted, and he made sure nobody crossed you when you were…. What?" She stopped, having noticed Draco's shocked face.

"Therapy?" he finally managed to utter.

Both she and Ron exchanged a startled glance. After a few tense moments, Ron shifted in his chair. "Yeah, mate. You went through therapy sessions after what You-Know-Who did to you."

Draco's heart felt as though it slid to a standstill. How did they know? "Did what to me?" he asked. He needed to know to be sure they were talking about the same thing.

"He… he…." Hermione stuttered.

"Just say it!" Draco demanded.

"He raped you," she whispered immediately.

The blood drained from Draco's face and he felt himself deflate in his seat. This was the single most humiliating day of his entire life. He had wanted to take that to his grave. "You don't remember that?" Ron asked tentatively. "Because I would say that's a good thing."

"Of course I remember it!" the blond snapped irritably. "It has nothing to do with Harry, does it? So of course I remember every single fucking detail! I just was not aware that anybody contained that knowledge but me." He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat in an effort to maintain his dignity. "I suppose Harry knows then?"

"He was at every therapy session with you," Ron said as he summoned the wine bottle into his hand. "And Draco, I think you are very wrong when you say that what You-Know-Who did to you had nothing to do with Harry. Everything he did had something to do with Harry, especially when it came to you."

Draco merely blinked at him for a few moments and then turned to stare out the window. He was determined to say nothing more of anything. It was getting late, after all. Perhaps he could excuse himself to bed. The only downfall was that Hermione and Ron had decided to spend the night. Draco readied himself for a long day ahead.

"Draco, I know that this has probably been a difficult night for you, but… well, I brought along something that I thought might interest you somewhat," Hermione said tentatively.

"I can't imagine that either of you have anything I would want."

She cleared her throat. "I'll go fetch it and then you can judge." She left and for a few minutes, did not return. Ron stayed resolutely silent, obviously quite aware that Draco was annoyed and preferred not to be disturbed. When Hermione finally did return, it was with a large bowl with rune engravings on the side. Draco's eyes were alert upon her and the object he conceived to be a pensieve.

"Professor Dumbledore willed this pensieve to Harry when he died a year ago, among other things. Luckily, I found it empty when I went to fetch it the other day from Harry's house. Otherwise I would not have been able to use it for my purposes."

"Which would be?" Draco prompted impatiently.

"To show you what _I_ remember. And of course, Ron." She placed the bowl in the centre of the floor and beckoned him forward. He cautiously slid from the couch and onto the floor. "You do know how these work, right?" At his annoyed nod, she smiled. "We only have five memories in here, so it won't take terribly long. It's from Ron's and my perspective, keep in mind, so I can't follow you two where I didn't go."

"I already said that I know how it works," Draco snapped, becoming increasingly annoyed and without telling her, leaned down to stick his face within the swirling silver contents. He was sucked up and seemingly flipping over, landed smoothly on his feet. Hermione landed beside him moments later.

"There's no need to get vicious, Draco," she reprimanded. "I'm only trying to give you something of what your relationship with Harry was like." At that moment, they heard pealing laughter come from somewhere far off and they both looked around. They were on the Hogwarts Express.

"In there," Hermione pointed to the compartment they were standing in front of. "This is Ron's memory of the first train ride to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron should be through that door."

Feeling somewhat eager to see an eleven year old Harry Potter (but also not wanting to show just how eager), Draco stepped forward and slid the door open. A sprawling array of sweets was spread out on a seat between two small boys. Well, Draco amended to himself, Ron did look rather tall for his age, but his face had a boyish look to it. His gaze swept to the boy by the window and he could not quite help the smile that spread his lips. Harry was quite dishevelled looking what with his hair shaggy and unkempt, and his clothes were in sorry need of a shrinking charm, and his glasses were taped together.

"Cute thing, isn't he?" Hermione smiled slightly, cocking her head to the side. "Though from an outsider's perspective, he's cute; from my point of view, I look at him and see neglect. I hate what his relatives did to him. Anyway, we may as well take a seat. I think Ron put too much of this memory in here."

After she and Draco took a seat, he turned his attention to the pair across from them. Ron was talking about what bad shape his wand was in, and that was when the compartment door opened again. Hermione groaned. Draco grinned.

An eleven year old Hermione Granger had stepped into the compartment looking for a toad. Hermione hid her face as her younger self went through her story about how she had learned all the course books by heart. "Ambitious," Draco commented lightly. "If you were a pureblood, you could have the potential to be in Slytherin."

"I would have been in Ravenclaw before Slytherin," Hermione said, coming out from behind her hands. They had to wait a few more minutes, minutes in which Hermione spent huffing about how she had _told_ Ron that he had put too much of this memory in. Secretly, however, Draco enjoyed watching this Harry. It was difficult to fathom just how much a person could grow and mature in fourteen years.

"Oh, finally!" Hermione exclaimed when the door opened. "This should be interesting. I never did ask them how this first meeting turned out. I can't imagine very well."

Draco watched in open mouthed wonder as his younger self walked in with Crabbe and Goyle to his sides. He thought he rather looked like a dwarf, he was so small. It was funny to think that he had never actually _felt_ that small.

"_Is it true?"_ Draco said. "_They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"_

Unless Draco was much mistaken, by the looks of Harry's face, it did not look as though Harry favoured Draco too well already at this point. However, he then remembered how Harry had told him that they had first met at Madam Malkin's and then on the train to Hogwarts. This was the second time they had met. Draco watched in silent fascination.

"_Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."_

Draco scoffed at himself. Honestly.

"_You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."_

"Sounds like something I would say," Draco murmured to Hermione. "What a prat I was."

"You're telling me," Hermione whispered back, her eyes firm on the scene playing out before them.

They both watched avidly as Draco held out his hand in offer of friendship, and Harry's cool gaze upon that hand. Harry's gaze shifted back up to Draco's face. "_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."_

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat, a feeling running through his chest that he imagined must be quite similar to what his younger self must be feeling. He swallowed thickly. "That smarts a little," he said quietly.

Hermione grasped his hand as the scene shifted.

"This is my memory," she murmured as a hallway appeared around them. They were obviously in Hogwarts somewhere, though Draco could not tell where. "Sixth year," she continued. "My behaviour might be a little odd to you."

"Why?" Draco peered around the deserted hallway for Hermione, who finally appeared around the far end of the hall, books weighing down her arms. She was alone and seemed to be muttering to herself.

"There were strange things happening to everybody at Hogwarts sixth year," she explained. "It's too difficult to get into right now, so let's just focus on what I saw. See? I've heard something."

Draco had also noticed the sixteen year old Hermione stop in her tracks to listen. She took a few steps back and slid behind a tapestry. Draco could see her eyes peeking out, looking towards where he and present-day Hermione stood. Then he also heard something. There was somebody whispering behind them. He slowly turned (realising that Hermione had just done so) and saw a door opening to their left.

Harry peeked his head out of the door and looked around. Seeing nobody, his head retreated and they heard more whispering. Seconds later, Harry emerged, closely followed by Draco.

"Oh," Draco was surprised, though he wondered why. He knew these memories pertained to him and Harry. It still seemed a bit surreal that they had known each other when he could not remember anything.

The younger Draco closed the door carefully as Harry watched him. "_Are you sure you can't help me tomorrow?"_ Harry said, his voice still low.

"_I told you I have somewhere to be,"_ Draco replied, somewhat shiftily.

Harry visibly deflated, making Draco very much want to go slap himself to make him do whatever Harry wanted him to do. "_What am I supposed to do tomorrow night?"_ Harry asked.

Draco's younger self at least looked remorseful. He reached out and gently grasped Harry's elbow. "_Make sure you're in the room and I'll try to come see you afterwards."_ They fell silent for a few moments, staring at each other. Harry almost seemed to float closer to Draco, his face contorted with something like longing. "_Wait for me,"_ Draco whispered and Harry nodded. Then Draco disappeared beneath a cloak, and for a moment, Harry's hand was suspended in the air, his fingers curling around something. Then his arm dropped and Harry slowly turned back to the door.

The memory continued for another minute as Hermione came out from behind the tapestry and tried opening the door with several spells. Draco paid her no attention. He was too numb to really think about anything. _Wait for me_. How often had he said it? Why… why did Harry keep waiting?

"Sixth year is when you two became friends. I don't remember exactly when Harry said you became something more, but it was not long after this day, I think. At the time, I didn't actually hear what was being said, but I had thought you were just helping get information on Harry. Again, it's complicated."

As Hermione stomped off with her books in hand, the memory shifted again. This time, they were in some sort of library and Harry and Draco were sitting close together on a couch while Hermione sat on a chair next to them. "Summer after sixth year," Hermione informed him. "We were at Sirius Black's manor for the summer, including you. It was fun up until you broke up with Harry," she smiled reminiscently. "But that's a whole other story. You obviously got back together anyway."

Draco was hardly listening to her. He was busy staring at himself and Harry sitting on the couch. They were holding hands and they had both just leaned the side of their faces against the back of the couch and were speaking very intimately. It looked as though they were going to kiss. Hermione seemed to be doing her very best to ignore them by digging her face in a book. It seemed as if she had succeeded, because both Draco and Hermione could not understand what they were saying to each other. It sounded as if they were talking through three pillows. Draco smiled as Harry stuck his tongue out and it hit the younger Draco's face. He recoiled for a second before he clamped down on it with his lips, then suddenly, they were kissing insistently.

Hermione slammed her book closed. "_Oh, honestly you two!"_ she practically yelled at them. The two flew apart, seemingly alarmed. "_Contrary to popular belief, I do not enjoy listening to you two snog on the couch next to me. You two have perfectly good rooms. USE THEM!"_

Draco stared at her for a moment, bemused. "_We were here first," _he retorted.

Hermione huffed and stood with a flourish. "_Boys!"_ she exclaimed and hurried down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

Draco turned back to Harry with a grin and spoke with deliberate loudness. "_She's just jealous that Weasley isn't as handsome as your boyfriend, Potter, or so adept at using his tongue."_

Draco smirked at Hermione, who was standing with her arms crossed. Hermione glanced at him. "Ron is an outstanding kisser, Malfoy," she said quite seriously.

Draco chuckled. "I didn't want to know."

Harry burst into a large grin, but managed to contain his laughter. "_Draco!"_ he exclaimed, obviously for Hermione's benefit. They kissed briefly and then Draco pulled away.

"I want to go fly anyway. Let's go find Weasley."

Harry's face fell.

"I was always disappointing him, wasn't I?" Draco asked. "It's a wonder he even fell in love with me."

Hermione turned from the scene to look at him with a frown. "You had many problems, Draco, that Harry knew you had to overcome. At the time, I don't believe Harry knew what you had gone through with Voldemort, so yes, of course he was going to be disappointed when his boyfriend did not want to snog or stay with him alone. It seemed the only time you two did snog was when somebody was around. Although, what do I know? I never asked Harry how often you snogged when nobody was looking. I had quite enough of it while I was there."

Harry and Draco got up from the couch and waved to Hermione who had taken a seat down below. She frowned at them. Harry ignored her and turned to give Draco a hug. His touch seemed like it was so gentle, and when he brushed his fingers through Draco's hair, Draco felt his heart constrict and he wanted to get away from these images. He wanted to remember them, not see them through somebody else's perspective.

"Get me out of here," he demanded.

"But there's still two more memories," Hermione protested.

"I don't care if there's ten more, I want out."

Hermione looked into his face and seeing something she had not noticed moments before, nodded. "Okay."

Seconds later, Draco spun out of the pensieve and onto solid ground. Ron, who was now rocking a fussing Al looked up startled. "Back already? I assumed it would take another half hour or so." Draco did not answer. He felt as though he had lost all ability to move his limbs. He stared unseeingly at the floor as Hermione brushed her robes down.

"He's hungry, isn't he?" she questioned and took Al from Ron's arms. "If you don't mind, Draco… I breastfeed. I cover myself up, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

He vaguely waved his arm in response. Grabbing a small blanket, she threw it over her chest and sat down. Draco hardly noticed what she was doing. "Well?" Ron questioned impatiently. "What happened? Did you review all the memories?"

"All but two," Hermione answered, patiently adjusting Al beneath the blanket so that he would feed.

"Ah," Ron sat back, looking up at Draco as if expecting him to say something. Draco blinked a few times, meeting his eyes.

"It was nice of you… to put your memories in there for my viewing," he began quietly, finally finding his voice. "However, if I am to remember anything of my past, I would rather it be through my perspective and not anybody else's." He deliberately left out the fact that seeing himself engaged with Harry in such a familiar manner was more than he could possibly handle at the present time. It made him feel things he did not yet fully understand and quite honestly did not know if he _wanted_ to understand them. "So, I thank you for the generosity. For now, I am tired. All I want is a peaceful night's sleep, so…." He bowed his head slightly to both of them. "Good night, Ron, Hermione. It's nice to meet you again." He turned to Ron again, thinking of their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. "Ron… I apologise for any insult against your family I might have thrown at you." The blond looked towards the stairs. "I rather like your family. They're… a lot nicer than mine, aren't they?" Ron seemed to be at a loss for words as his mouth was hanging open slightly. Hermione was looking up at Draco with a sad fondness. "Anyway…" Draco shrugged slightly and turned to leave.

"Good night, Draco," Hermione said as he disappeared from the room.

Draco's wish for a peaceful night's rest was not to be had, however. He tossed and turned all night, images of what he had seen in the pensieve plaguing him. A few times, he dreamed that he and Harry were in a healer's office with two older men, men Draco assumed to be Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Draco felt scared and unwilling to leave Harry's side. He knew that something was wrong with what was about to happen, but all three of his companions kept reassuring him that the healer would not want to make him straight again. It did not make any sense. Draco's mind struggled with the dream, trying to understand the content. Finally the healer came and called for him and when he went inside the office, the healer hypnotised him and he relived the first horrible memory of Voldemort raping him.

He woke in a sweat, his breathing heavy, and an intense need to see Harry again was threatening to overwhelm him. However, he found that it was already daylight and he did not like going to the hospital in the day. The entire household was already awake and had breakfasted by the time he came downstairs, freshly showered and dressed. Molly had set out a hot plate for him and made him sit down as she insisted that he looked a little peaky. He certainly did not feel like himself, and whenever he did not feel well, he liked it when people coddled over him. He allowed Molly to hover over him like a mother hen this morning. It was reassuring that somebody cared.

After breakfast, Draco took a seat in the living room, and was shortly joined by Ayida who seemed to have woken with a cold. She crawled into his lap, sniffling and holding tightly to her blanket. They sat together for a long time. Draco held his nose pressed into her soft hair and his hand gently rubbed her back. As they both drifted off, Draco's heart suddenly began beating fast and his brain kicked in. Slowly, he opened his eyes, enlightened on what was making him feel so ill.

It was this girl in his arms. It was Harry, who lay ailing in the hospital. It was his own mind working against him. He longed to know his past, and as long as his brain knew that there was something missing, it would continue to deteriorate, and his heart would surely continue to break every time he laid eyes on his daughter, on Harry. He needed to know or he would become sick. There was no doubt in his mind. He had to do something about his memory, or it would kill him. It was poison.

"Ron," he said quietly. The red head had just passed the entrance to the living room and when he heard his name, backtracked.

"Yeah?"

"Ayida is sleeping, and I have something I need to do. Could you watch her?"

Nodding, Ron came to retrieve her. "I'll just put her to bed. When will you be back?"

"In a couple hours, possibly. I'm not sure how long it will take. I'll be back in time for dinner at any rate."

"I'll tell mum."

"Thanks."

Grabbing his cloak and slipping on his shoes, Draco went outside and Disapparated. Moments later, he reappeared in Hogsmeade and began the trek to Hogwarts. The halls were empty and the dungeons seemed a little more frigid than he remembered, but he carried on to his destination. It was terribly familiar and he could not sweep away the feeling of deep nostalgia that washed over him. The doors to the Potions classroom opened as Draco approached, and he stopped.

"Severus," he greeted with a nod.

Severus on his part looked completely unsurprised by his unannounced visit. "Draco. I thought that pensieve might push you in the right direction."

"It was you? You told them to do it?"

Severus nodded and gestured Draco to follow him. "Of course. I assume you figured it out then, considering you're here."

Draco waited to answer until he was seated within the warm interior of Severus's private chambers. "It's poison."

Pouring a glass of brandy, Severus nodded slightly. "To put it bluntly, yes. You have realised the truth, so the potion is working against you now. It's trying to make you forget what it made you forget in the first place. However, it won't work twice. It's always been a flaw with the potion and regrettable when people have died… not that you will," he hurried to reassure when Draco made a sound of protest. "It's been nearly a month since you've first seen Potter, yes?" At Draco's nod, he continued. "Then you need a remedy… and quickly. You've felt the poison?"

"I started feeling off last night. At first I thought it was just because I had seen myself with Harry. Partly… it was because of that. I started to understand it just today."

Severus pushed a drink into Draco's hand and sat across from him in his own chair. "The Aurors have found concrete evidence against your mother. She is the one who brewed the potion."

Draco nodded stiffly and took a deep drink out of his glass. "Is that so?"

"She also made a serious misjudgement by forgetting to add powdered root of calendula. Your father was never an aficionado of potions, so never kept a healthy supply of ingredients, and neither did your mother. The manor's supply never would have held it and none of the records show that she purchased it. By overlooking that step, she made the potion she gave you even more toxic than it already has become. I am surprised that you have not felt the effects of it yet."

"How am I to feel something that I don't know is there?" Draco asked bitterly.

Lightly, Severus shrugged. "The same as anybody else who is ill detects their ailment, by conjecture."

Draco snorted. "Well, I'm sorry for not detecting it earlier, but when I feel fine, I'm not going to assume that I'm slowly being poisoned by a potion which was incorrectly brewed by my own _mother_."

"Tell me, Draco," Severus leaned forward in his seat, his face hard, "Does it feel like you are _fine_ when you do not remember your own life? Do you feel fine when you realise that you have forgotten your own husband and daughter?" He paused for a moment to let it sink in, and then he sneered. "You have had a cancer eating away at your brain for _four_ years, Draco, and you indicate that you have felt _fine_?" He raised a brow and leaned back. "That seems a very raw definition of the word to me, Draco."

"I'm sorry," he replied contritely. "I understand what you're saying. It's just… how was I supposed to know, Severus?"

"Your mind was taken from you!" Severus almost yelled. "You are a wizard, start thinking like one! I suppose I always prided myself a little too much that my godson was bright. You could not remember _years_ of your life and you took every word Narcissa fed to you like a Muggle child who had never been exposed to magic."

Draco was on his feet before he realised what he was doing, and had smashed the full glass of brandy to the floor. "SHE IS MY MOTHER! I HAD NOBODY ELSE! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE?"

Severus rose to his feet as well to tower over Draco. He glared down. "I taught you… your father taught you that above all, you are to look out for yourself. You do not trust anybody when it counts. You were suddenly missing your life. I understand that you were confused, but that did not give you the go ahead to suddenly forget everything you had ever been taught… about magic and about life. How could you have taken Narcissa's explanation at face value? Did you not consider that it was a little extraordinary that she was the only one who knew anything, who knew where you were? Did you not consider that it was _magic_ that took your mind away and that it was not of your own doing? Or did you forget all of that? While you were at it, did you forget that you are a wizard? From where I am standing, that seems the most plausible explanation. I have never been more disappointed in your actions in your entire life than I am now."

Draco stared up at Severus in disbelief, his entire body starting to shake. Never had it felt this ghastly when his father said that he was disappointed in his son. "I'm sorry," he said through parched lips. "Sev…." He said urgently when the other man turned away. Severus silently cleaned up the mess of liquid and glass from the floor and just as silently returned to his seat. "Sev, she's my mother. She taught me just as much about magic and life as you and father. Her lessons have always been just as useful. I don't understand how I was to suspect her of doing anything to harm me. Mothers… they aren't supposed to…." He trailed off, at a loss as to what to say.

"No, they are not, but they do. Unfortunately, you have learned the difficult way. Sit down, Draco, you have heard my worst. Drink some more brandy. Calm down, you look red in the face." He sent his own glass of alcohol through the air towards Draco. The blond caught it deftly and took three drinks before he would sit.

After a long time in silence – a silence in which Severus closely observed Draco's nervous twitching – Draco finally set his now empty glass down. The alcohol was finally taking some effect. "Severus?"

The darker man cocked his head. "Yes, Draco?"

"I want to remember. I want to know Harry again."

Severus nodded. "Wise choice."

Draco understood what he meant. He had chosen to live.

A week passed with almost nothing changing, at least where Harry was concerned. He remained comatose though the healers were telling the Weasleys that they were very optimistic. The damaged internal organs were rapidly repairing with the help the healers gave them, and Harry was giving positive signs that he would wake up. They did not know when it would happen; they only knew that he would. Draco, for his part, heard all of this information second hand. He now refused to go to the hospital to see Harry, using his own healer appointments as an excuse. The Weasleys did not need to know that he only needed to see his healer three times a week, or that his healer was stationed at St. Mungo's. In fact, Draco had chosen not to tell anybody why he needed a healer. He had gone with the simplest explanation: Severus thought he might be depressed. He was going to a psychologist.

Draco had already been to three of his appointments and could not say that any progress had been made. His healer, a man by the name Darren Walkowiak, had done nothing but put Draco into a deep sleep so that he might study his brain and other certain details that Draco did not understand. Walkowiak usually had an assistant with him, a rather young, attractive man, whose name Draco had yet to catch. However, Walkowiak had assured Draco at their last meeting that they would begin with the regular treatments at their next meeting. Draco feared what those treatments would be. Severus had warned him that they were not painless.

Over the weekend, Draco tried not to think about this and attempted to distract himself with Ayida. Ayida, however, had more matters to lay weight to his already stressed mind. They were playing outside with the gnomes (Ayida had a certain fascination with pulling their hair and letting them chase her). This game made Draco quite nervous, so he chased behind the gnome should it get too close to her. Finally, when Draco had swung the last gnome by the hair and thrown it over the fence, Ayida dragged herself to the picnic table and plopped down.

"That was fun," she said. "Daddy, next time you should let them catch me."

She had reverted to calling him 'daddy' sometime in the past few days, and Draco could not help but feel warm. He found he did not like being called 'father' as much as he thought. It reminded him too much of Lucius. "I don't think so," he plopped beside her with a huff. He found it was one thing to run laps in a gym, and an entirely different thing to chase a four year old. He had never felt more out of shape. She was a never ending ball of energy. "Gnomes are nasty things," he continued to puff. "They'll pinch you."

"Really?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Probably, but I do know that they bite. So, I don't want you playing with them if a grown-up isn't with you, all right?"

Ayida nodded seriously and watched with high interest as a gnome climbed over the fence and back into its hole. When it disappeared, she leaned against Draco with a sigh. "I want to go home, daddy."

Draco stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"_Home_," she emphasized. "I want to go… to go because daddy there."

"_Oh_," Draco nodded once. He understood. She wanted to go back to Harry's. He had not even thought that she did not consider this home. He had had so much else on his mind… this had not even crossed it. "Ayida," he pulled her into his lap though she was muddy and it smeared onto his trousers. "I told you before that your daddy is in the hospital. He's still sleeping, remember? You saw him two days ago and I heard that you spoke to him quite a bit."

"Yeah," she nodded. "But he not talk back."

"He can't, but he would like to because he could hear you."

"So he not at home?"

"No, not yet."

She was silent for a long while before she finally sighed again and reached up to wrap her arms around Draco's neck. "I want to go home. Can you take me dere?"

It would be ridiculous for him to take Ayida home. He would have to care for her by himself and he had no idea how to do that. He would have to find a sitter each time he needed to do something. It was so easy here at the Burrow to know that there was somebody who was always here. "Please, daddy?"

Draco felt his heart melt and he squeezed her. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not promising anything, but we'll see, all right?"

She pulled back with a giant grin. "Okay! I cold. Can I have hot cocoa?"

"Sure," he kissed her cheek and set her on her feet. Draco forgot about the mud caking their shoes and trouser legs. A couple months of continuous rain had prolonged and deepened the mud. When they traipsed in, leaving muddy shoes prints on the floor, Molly bore down on them and demanded that Draco clean up after them and be more thoughtful in the future. Shrugging at Ayida, he pulled out his wand and cleaned not only their clothing up but also the floor. However, his cleansing spells had always been useless, and a fine sheet of dirt was still left over everything the mud had touched. Molly admonished them harshly, but melted when Ayida turned big, green eyes up to her and said that she just wanted some cocoa. Molly, after cleaning the mess with her wand, ushered both Ayida and Draco to the table and made them the steamy drink.

As Draco sat warming his hands against the sides of the mug, he thought that he had no chance against the cute, little monster beside him. If they were to go back to Harry's house, she would have him wrapped around her finger, and she was smart… she would know it. Ayida was sitting on her knees with her face as close as possible to the liquid, blowing into it and giggling. "My face is wet!" she cried and looked up with a huge grin. She had Harry's smile. Her eyes crinkled in the same places and her eyes seemed greener just as Harry's did when he smiled. Draco smiled across the table until she looked back into her cocoa and resumed blowing air into her cup. He grimaced and took a drink. He hoped she did not know she had him around her finger already.

Over the next week, Draco discussed his problem about Ayida with Molly and Hermione. They thought that it would be a great idea to take her home and kept trying to persuade him that it would be for the best… for both of them. More often, he found that he was being left alone with Ayida, and he knew that these times were not just coincidence. Part of him was annoyed that they were priming him to take care of his daughter by himself. Then again, a part of him wanted it so badly that it hurt inside. He had missed so much of her life already that it pained him to be away from her. It also seemed as if Ayida was beginning to cling to him more as well. She tended to sulk when he was gone to his appointments and yelled for joy when he returned, only relinquishing hold of his legs when he pried her away.

One night, a few hours after putting Ayida to bed Draco lay in his own, staring at the ceiling. He was fighting an internal battle trying to decide if he should take Ayida home or not. Now he found that it was not so much the issue of taking care of her by himself. It was the issue of living alone in Harry's home. It somehow did not seem right. He wondered what Harry would think. And with that thought in mind, he swung his legs out of bed and dressed silently.

When he arrived at St. Mungo's minutes later, it was quiet and the nurses on Harry's floor offered him entrance with warm greetings. They had wondered where he had been for so long, but he offered no answer. He apologised to them and hurried to Harry's room. A soft light was glowing above the bed. Harry was lying still as ever, but this time there was colour to his cheeks as though somebody had added a little bit of blush to his cheekbones. Slowly, Draco approached him and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi," he whispered and gently took Harry's hand between both of his. It was warm, not clammy. "It's me," he continued, a little lamely, he thought. "I haven't been here for a while. I… I don't know if you've even noticed but… well, I haven't." He stroked the top of Harry's hand. "You look better, and your hand is warm, isn't it?"

Draco would not admit even to himself how good that knowledge made him feel or what the tingling warmth within his chest meant. "I've been busy. Ayida… she's a handful, you know but she's wonderful. Sometimes I still can't even believe she's mine."

He paused, wondering for a moment why he was here and why he was saying this when he had said it before. Harry probably would not even understand that Draco was thinking about taking Ayida home. The blond brushed the hair off Harry's forehead and decided to say something anyway.

"Ayida wants to go home – back to your house, I mean. I've been thinking about it for a week and I still don't know what to do. I feel wrong living in your house with you not there. Besides that I don't know if I'm ready to take care of her by myself. Molly has been leaving me by myself more often lately, but it's still different. I know her and Arthur will be home by dinner at the least. I wish you could at least tell me what you think, Harry. I want to ask you if you think I should take Ayida home."

Draco stared at Harry as if expecting an answer. When nothing was forthcoming, Draco sighed and hung his head. "I didn't –" he cut his words off and stared at their hands. Had that been…? There it was again!

Harry had squeezed his hand.

Draco expelled a harsh breath and turned his eyes to Harry's face. There was no change. "Harry?" he whispered. "Can you really hear me?" His hand was squeezed gently once more. "Are you awake? Harry? Oh, fuck me," he swore quietly. "Do you want me to take Ayida home?"

His hand was squeezed again, only harder this time. "I'll take that as a yes?" Another squeeze. Draco then realised that his breath was coming short and quick, and that this was something new. He grappled for his wand within his robes and sent a signal to the nurses. Two nurses came rushing in moments later, turning on lights and swarming the bed.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?" a short witch asked, extracting her wand.

"He squeezed my hand," he said quietly, eyes coming up to meet theirs. "At least four times, he squeezed my hand."

The nurses looked at each other and then simultaneously began working around Draco, casting various spells over Harry. When they finished, they turned over bright eyes to the blond. "His brain waves are up," the one who had spoken before said. "There's more activity in his brain. I just checked that an hour before you came, Mr. Malfoy, and there was no change."

"Will there be more improvement?" Draco asked.

"There's no way to tell," the other, taller nurse informed him. "But we certainly hope so. I believe we should call the healer to come look at him just in case there might be something he can do."

Draco nodded. "Could I have a few more moments with him before I go home?"

The nurses nodded and headed for the door. When Draco was sure they were gone, he turned back to Harry. "I don't know what you're fighting for, but it had better not be me, Harry. Think of Ayida. She wants you back so badly… everybody does. Anyway," he sighed and stood up. "I should go in case Ayida wakes up and tries to find me." Hesitantly, he leaned down and gently kissed Harry's unresponsive lips. "Keep fighting, Harry even when I'm not here," he murmured and pulled away. "I'll turn the lights down for you." With a wave of his wand, they dimmed considerably. "Good night." Then he left through the door and tried not to think of how empty he felt now that he had left Harry's side.

* * *

Please leave a review! Let me know what you think! 


	11. Chapter 11

**Lacuna  
**_Chapter Eleven  
:.:.:.:.:.:_

The next day, Draco ventured into Ayida's room and began packing her things, while she ate lunch. The food had been cleared away by the time he returned downstairs with all of his daughter's and his own bags floating behind him. Molly looked up in surprise (she was sitting in a chair busily knitting new jumpers for Christmas whilst Ayida coloured by her feet) when Draco poked his head around the corner.

"Are you ready to go home, Ayida?"

It seemed to take the girl a few moments to register what he was implying, moments which Molly used for her advantage. "Oh, are you sure, Draco?" she asked with concern. "I know you were so reluctant about it…."

Draco shrugged. "I know, but I do think this will be best. Besides," he continued, taking a few surprised steps backwards when Ayida flung herself around his knees, "Harry wants me to take her home."

Molly blinked. "Harry?"

It was time to come clean, Draco supposed. "Yes, I uh…" he scratched his head. "I've gone to see him a fair few times at night. I stopped for a couple weeks, but I went again last night and I was talking to him and he squeezed my hand."

Molly's hand flew to her chest. "Oh! Really? He did?"

"A few times actually," he nodded. "He squeezed hard when I asked him about taking Ayida home, so I took that as a yes. So… we're going today."

Molly had tears in her eyes when she stood and gave Draco a hug. "That's so wonderful to hear that our Harry is getting better. And you!" she pulled back. "I had wondered why you never wanted to see him, but now it makes sense! Well," she dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I think I've taken care of everything. Hermione gave me the keys to the house this morning, so that about covers it. Ayida, say good bye to grandma."

The three bid their farewells, and with many assurances to Molly that he would ask if he needed help, Draco fished out the portkey that Hermione had secured for him. First, he shrunk their luggage and stuffed them into his pockets, and then he tapped the portkey with his wand and put Ayida's hand on it. He explained briefly what it would feel like so that she would not get scared. He need not have worried; she giggled the whole time and when she regained her footing on the front lawn of Harry's house, asked to go again. Shaking his head, Draco promised another time and went to unlock the front door.

Ayida ran in as he pushed the door open and disappeared down the hall. Draco had never been in the front end of the house before and looked around. It was a small entryway with just a large, plain black rug, a chair against the opposite wall of the door and a coat rack in the corner. The blond toed off his shoes on the rug and then for lack of anything better to do, arranged them neatly in front of the chair.

"Ayida, come take your shoes off!"

Her little feet could be heard running back down the hall. She barely gave him a second glance once she had kicked her shoes off and disappeared around the corner again. The hallway into the rest of the house was to the left of the door and Draco slowly peered down the hall. The house seemed dark and a little musty from such little use in the past couple months. Draco made his way down the hall, peering into the first room on his left which seemed to have been made into a room for Ayida's toys. It was neatly arranged with a large variety of items including a couple toy boxes beneath a window, a table with a tea set placed on top, and a small, play wardrobe. Draco did not bother to look further. It was apparent that Ayida was spoiled rotten. Of course, he thought with a smirk, he would not have a daughter who did not have everything she could ever dream of having. He made a mental note to buy her some more toys later.

Continuing down the hall, he could see that it slowly opened up into the spacious living room. Having been there in his previous visit, he took a right into the rather large kitchen and through a door which led to the dining room.

He had been here before as well. For a moment, he stared at the spot he had first seen his daughter, and could not help the stirrings of pure fury in his stomach. How could Harry not have told him _then_? Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Draco exited the door that led back to the hallway and went to the right. It opened right into the huge living room, where he found Ayida sitting on the couch with a small contraption in her hand. Draco looked up in the direction her eyes were rooted and saw that the Muggle telly was on playing some sort of colourful show with loud, annoying music.

"You missed the telly… is that why you wanted to come home?" he asked with a smile.

She turned and looked at him. "Noooo… silly, daddy. I come home so that daddy will come home. He don't like it when he hasta look for me, so I be wight here when he gets back tonight."

"Oh," Draco nodded. "I see. But, you know Ayida that he isn't coming back tonight. He's still sleeping."

Blinking up at him, her shoulders slumped. "Oh." She turned around and looked at the television again. "Okay." Draco leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her head.

"I think he's getting better though. We'll just make sure that the house is clean for when he does come home, all right? He will like that very much." She nodded, but seemed to be distracted again. Sighing, Draco straightened and looked ahead. He blinked. How had he not noticed _that_ before? Almost the entire wall behind the television was made of glass. There was a door that could be pushed out to step onto a deck, from which, he presumed, would be a great view in the summer. There seemed to be endless trees surrounding a garden and a small, man-made pond. As it was now, it was bare and not much to look at. Draco walked around the couch and stood before the window, looking out for a long time, imagining what it would have been like to be out there with Harry in the summer just after purchasing the house, and the fun they might have had there. It took a while for Draco to _want_ to push those thoughts from his mind. When he did, he turned away from the window, feeling as though somebody had stuck a pin in his heart, just deep enough to damage him.

"I'm going to go put your things upstairs, all right? Will you be fine?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Don't go outside, and don't get into anything that you know you're not supposed to."

"Okay."

Draco nodded and ascended the stairs quickly. He chose the first room on the left and was happy to find that it was, indeed, Ayida's bedroom. He cast a few air freshening charms and then with the help of magic, unpacked her things and put them away. It took a while as he had no idea where things went, but he did not mind. He had nothing else to do and nobody to converse with. Afterwards, he left her bedroom and crossed the hall into the next room. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly when he realised that it was not the guest room, but Harry's. There was a king sized bed in the centre, a place, Draco thought with no little jealousy, where Harry and Matthew had… _fucked_ (because he was unwilling to think of it as anything more than that) and slept together. Forcefully pushing the thought away, Draco stepped into the room to further inspect the pile of items in the middle of the bed.

After a moment, he realised that they were picture frames. He crawled onto the bed and picked one up, hand beginning to tremble as he saw what the frame held. It was surely a picture of their wedding day, the first of its kind Draco had ever seen, rather _recalled_ seeing. The two subjects in the picture kissed briefly, and Draco could not believe how _happy_ they both looked. He quickly set the frame down and picked up another… and another… and another. Most of them held pictures of himself. Slowly, comprehension slid over Draco…. Harry had hid these photos from him the night they had first had sex weeks ago. Draco slipped from sitting on his calves to his butt in a fluid, defeated movement. He sat there for a long time, too numb to think of anything, too betrayed to feel. When he finally climbed off the bed, he did not even bother looking around the room. He left and closed the door tightly behind him.

The next couple of weeks passed in a dull blur. Draco found he was becoming increasingly bored and restless. He had no reason to venture outside the house except to shop for food, his appointments, and the toys he had vowed he would buy for Ayida. When he had his appointments with the healer, he had Hermione or Ron come over to care for Ayida, or he would drop her off at the Burrow. Ayida seemed content to stay at home, convinced Harry would be home soon if she stayed. She had repeated this sentiment so often that Draco had started to believe it to a point as well. He had gone back into Harry's room a week after they had arrived and took all the frames downstairs where he assumed they went. He had stared at the pictures that were on the walls and decided that it was a rather haphazard way to arrange photos, and attempted again to put the frames back in order, not that he knew exactly where they went anyway.

It was already mid-November and a foot of snow had recently fallen. Draco was reclined on the couch staring out the picture window (Ayida had decided she wanted an early nap after lunch) when he heard a tapping at the small window to his left. He turned his head and saw a barn owl perched on the sill. Flicking his wand, Draco opened the window and let it fly in. The owl's feathers were covered in snow and it shook itself as it perched on the arm of the couch. Draco scowled at it and took the letter. It gave a loud screech and took off through the window again. The blond closed it with unnecessary force and tore open the envelope, quite confused as to who it would be from.

_Mr. Malfoy_, it read.

_After much hard work and perseverance, the Ministry has apprehended Narcissa Malfoy. Please visit the Ministry of Magic for a complete list of crimes against her. _

_We apologise for any inconvenience her escape may have caused you. As an apology, her trial will be held as soon as possible. A date has not yet been set; however, we will be in contact. _

_Thank you for your patience. _

It was signed by the Minister of Magic. Draco clenched the letter in his hand and shut his eyes tightly. He was happy, of course, that his mother had been caught, yet something within him was telling him that it was not right that she was under Ministry custody.

"Draco?" a voice behind him made him jump in his seat. He was standing and had his wand pointing at Hermione before he had thought about what he was doing.

"At ease," she smiled, holding her hands up. "Sorry I startled you." Draco lowered his wand as he studied her face. Her eyes were bright and her smile a little too big. "Did you hear the news?" she gushed just as Draco opened his mouth.

He waved the letter. "I just read it."

"They sent a letter?" she cocked her head to the side. "That seems strange, doesn't it?"

"Not really," Draco shrugged and slumped back onto the couch. "Look, Granger, I'm not in the mood to hear bragging about how my mother was stupid enough to be caught…. Not that I'm complaining, I just… well, I just don't want to hear about it."

Hermione was silent for a long moment before she walked around the couch and sat next to him. "Oh. Well, I wasn't talking about your mother. You truly haven't heard what happened today?"

"Please, do enlighten me, Granger. I'm positively bursting to know," he said in a perfected tone of boredom.

"It's Weasley," she corrected automatically. "I thought you would like to know that Harry's awake."

Draco blinked. It felt as though his heart stopped and started beating erratically at the same time. "Awake?" he questioned and bit his lip when his voice cracked.

"He's asking for you and Ayida."

Draco closed his eyes and pushed his head into the back of the couch. "Is he really?" he asked faintly. Obviously he could not go see Harry. "Well then, you had better take Ayida when she wakes."

"But… don't you want to see him?" Hermione protested honest confusion in her voice.

"I want a lot of things."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Draco, he says he remembers you visiting him. He doesn't recall it exactly, but he remembers feeling that you were there talking to him. Is that true, because I don't remember you ever going to see him?"

Draco was silent for a few moments before he sighed and stood once more. "It doesn't really matter what I did or didn't do."

"I think it would mean a lot to Harry to know that you were there sometimes. After all, nobody saw you there that I'm aware of, so nobody can reassure him that you were."

Holding his shoulders ridged, Draco stopped his progress to the kitchen. "Ayida practically begged for a nap, so I'm reluctant to wake her, but I suspect she will be awake soon. You can take her to St. Mungo's then. In the meantime, I'm going to make some tea, whether you want some or not."

After a few minutes, Hermione joined him in the kitchen and began digging through the cupboards for something to eat with the tea. Draco stood tensely in front of the stove, hoping she would stay quiet. Once she had set some biscuits on a plate, she came to stand beside him and they quietly watched the flames beneath the teapot flicker and heat the water.

"I know you're angry with him," Hermione said after some time. "And I won't tell you that he only did as much as he could in the circumstances, because I've thought about it, and I think I would be just as upset. The thing is, Draco, that at one time in yours and Harry's life, you loved each other more than anything. I know Harry still does love you that much, if not more."

She tentatively grasped his hand and threaded their fingers together. Draco tried very hard not to pull away. The truth was that it had been a very long time since there had been somebody to touch him this way who did not mean anything by it other than simply to_be there_. He could not believe how lonely he suddenly felt, and her touch overwhelmed him.

"Draco," she looked up at him, but he refused to turn away from the flames. Her voice lowered to a whisper as if that was the only way she thought she could get through to him. "It's okay to love him, despite what he kept a secret. It's okay to admit that you might need him."

Draco turned his head away, taking an inaudible breath. The teapot began hissing. "It's done," he said unnecessarily and swept it from the burner. After a few moments of waiting expectantly for some sort of response, Hermione sighed and took the plate of biscuits into the living room.

Somehow, during the next several days, Draco always had a legitimate excuse not to go to St. Mungo's to see Harry. There were plenty of times when he was by himself, doing nothing so that he could have gone, but did not. He could not bring himself to visit. The conversation he had had with Hermione the day Harry had woken played over and over in his mind. He wished he could forget it because he did not love Harry, so he could neither admit that he loved nor needed him. Yet, something still itched within him and he was restless during all this time.

When Ron sent a message one night explaining how Harry would be returning home the following day, Draco immediately began to pace. Ayida watched him for awhile; not understanding what made him so jumpy, but lost interest after a short time and went into her toy room to straighten it up for when Harry came home.

Draco woke up unnecessarily early the following morning and cleaned everything that had already been cleaned numerous times, took a half hour long shower, the next half hour doing his hair (which he again thought had grown rather long), and the next half hour picking out clothes. When finally, he found he had nothing else to do but wait, he paced some more as Ayida sat watching the television. "You've been watching that an awful long time, Ayida," he noted, half sitting on the couch but then decided against it and paced some more.

However, Ayida did not give an answer as they both heard the front door open; she jumped off the couch, squealing in delight as she ran down the hall. Draco turned his head away from the television and listened. "Daddy!" she screamed and a muffled 'oomph' carried to Draco's ears.

"Hullo, Ayida," Harry's voice greeted her, a smile obvious in the tone. His voice had changed a little, sounding a bit more gravely than before his injuries. Draco wondered briefly if it would be permanent.

Draco shifted nervously as Harry's footsteps neared the living room. He still had time to escape out the back door. Sod his things in the guest bedroom! Harry would surely send the items by post if he asked nicely. However, he hesitated for just a moment too long. Later, he would blame it on the fact that Harry would be able to follow his footprints in the snow. His hesitation had nothing to do with his laboured breathing or the almost desperate need to lay eyes on Harry. Nothing at all to do with that...nothing at all.

Harry rounded the corner with Ayida in his arms. Draco pretended to be looking out the window, but was watching the other man's every move from the corner of his eye. The blond forcefully restrained himself from moving his feet anywhere away from the window.

"Ayida," Harry said quietly. "Why don't you go collect those pictures and toys you wanted to show me, okay?" Ayida ran from the room without a word.

_Traitor_, Draco thought uncharitably toward her for leaving him alone.

Draco turned his back to Harry, who sighed dramatically at the gesture. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes even though Harry could not see his face. "Draco," Harry said quietly. The blond could not deny the slight thrill that raced through his body at the sound of Harry using his real name. After all, he could count on just one hand how many times Harry had used that name. "Hermione and Ron tell me you've been holed up here for three weeks and at the Burrow the rest of the time. It made me worry."

Draco scoffed quietly. "Draco!" Harry cried and bore down on him, grasping his forearm and spinning him around. "Talk to me! Look at me! Do _something_! Please. Tell me something."

This time, his scoff was quite audible and Harry stepped back as if the sound had burned him. Draco's eyes turned up to glare into Harry's. It was difficult when all he wanted was to pull Harry close, to put some colour back in his cheeks with kisses… to do something other than fight. Looking at him now… God, it was so much different than looking at him before in San Juan. He had had time to register what their past was, had thought almost constantly what it must have been like…. It physically _hurt_ to look at him.

But no… Harry had brought it on himself, and Draco could also not suppress the feeling of betrayal and anger. It had been much easier when Harry was unresponsive to forget those things. Now that Harry was awake and standing before him, it was much easier to let the feelings take over again. "Tell you something? Like what? Something along the lines of what you told me in San Juan? Lies? Is that what you want, Potter? I can give you lies if that's what you want. I've been lying to everybody I've met for the past four years, why should I stop now?"

"That's not fair, Draco, and you know it. It was never my choice to keep anything from you."

"Maybe so, but the point is, is that you _did_. Now I've been left to put the pieces back together these past few weeks because you didn't have the _balls_ to tell me in the first place!"

Harry's cheeks began to tint pink. "I told you everything I could without being thrown into Azkaban!"

"You told me about YOU, not about US, Potter! I had no idea that we had ever met! How does that constitute as telling me _anything_? You're my _husband_ and you didn't tell me!"

"Daddy?" Ayida's small voice broke in, confused and scared.

"Yes?" both Harry and Draco answered at the same time. They looked at each other again. The blond turned away first, gritting his teeth at Harry's gentle expression.

"Did you find everything, sweetie?" Harry asked, gently reaching out and rubbing Draco's forearm and then grasping his wrist, as if he knew Draco was thinking about making a retreat.

Ayida had her arms full with two new toys Draco had bought her and she slowly dumped them onto the couch. "I forgot the pictures," she said, eyeing them warily.

"Okay. Go get them and then we'll take a look, all right?"

The little girl nodded and slowly left the room as if anticipating having to break up another fight. Draco watched her go unwilling to look back at Harry. "You're right, Draco," Harry said quietly. "I am your husband and I should have told you that much sooner than I did. I'm sorry. I would take it back if I could, but I can't. Draco…" Harry pressed the palm of his hand against Draco's cheek and turned his face. Draco wondered when Harry had pressed so close, and when his face had heated up. Harry's eyes were scanning his face, lingering on his lips for just a moment before returning to meet Draco's gaze. "I would have given everything to just touch you again, you know," Harry whispered. "I just… I still can't believe…." His face was unbearably close now. Draco licked his lips and took two deep breaths before Harry wiped everything away. "I love you, Draco."

Then they were kissing. Draco blinked and suddenly his lips were moving against Harry's of their own accord. Slowly, the blonde's eyes closed, his mind currently numb to what was happening. Nothing mattered now that everything inside of him had suddenly melted, and _fuck_ if it did not feel _good_. They each pressed closer, arms wrapping tightly, teeth and tongue scraping desperately. A frantic moan tore from Draco's throat, and it was that which made him push Harry away and not Ayida's return. He hardly realised that she was back until she spoke.

"That is a short fight, daddy, but I glad that you are making up. I like my new daddy. Can he stay here?"

Draco blinked at her. Harry spoke for him, his voice breathless and slightly higher than normal. "As long as he wants," he cleared his throat and held Draco's eye. "He's welcome for as long as he wants." Draco tore his eyes away first, inwardly seething at what had just happened.

"Come sit with me!" Ayida commanded and jumped onto the couch.

Harry caught Draco's arm as he moved away and demandingly kissed him again. "I mean it," he murmured, running his hand along Draco's arm. "Everything I've said: I'm sorry, truly. You can stay for as long as you like, and more to the point, I don't _want_ you to leave. Also… I do, you know. I do love you."

Draco purposefully held his eyes for a few seconds before tearing from his grasp and sitting on the couch.

After playing with Ayida's toys and eating a snack, Draco excused himself and ventured outside. He found a bench that was somewhat secluded. The house could be seen through a small tree, so prying eyes could probably see him… namely Harry's. It wasn't much, but it was just what Draco needed to think.

He was not sure how much time passed. His thoughts were jumbled together, nothing more than a mass of confusion. He hated Harry for what he had done, yet somehow he was still drawn to Harry, still wanted to touch him, to kiss him. Draco did not know what he wanted, but he did know that staying with Harry now was not going to give him any answers. This was especially true since it seemed Harry expected them to fall back into their roles of a happily married couple. That was not fair of Harry, Draco thought. There was no way he could possibly return the feelings as deeply as Harry wanted. Draco would just have to tell him honestly that he could not do this, could not be in this relationship. More importantly, he just could not love Harry. He was too mad. But then… Harry _did_ make him feel something he could never remember feeling before.

Finally, after some time of Draco's thoughts turning in circles, he dropped his head into his hands and sighed, kicking out at the snow. He had to let Harry down. He _had_ to, for his own sanity. He smiled grimly at this. Somehow, he knew he had long ago lost his sanity. The bottom line here was that he could not give in to this _thing_ inside him that made him _want_, and more specifically, made him want _Harry_.

"You look like a frozen snowman."

Blinking slowly, Draco looked up, licking a snowflake from his lip. Harry grasped his hand and gently pulled him to his feet. "That's a bit redundant," Draco murmured, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck, as if it would make his heart slow down. He hated that Harry had some sort of power over him. He felt so helpless around the other man. "Snowmen are supposed to be frozen. If they weren't, they'd be dead…. And I'm not dead."

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Harry's mouth. "No." He pulled at Draco's elbows bringing their chests together. "No, you're not." His answer was breathless and suddenly Draco found his face full of Harry's neck, and Harry rubbing his own face in Draco's hair, his hand firmly implanted in the long, blond strands. "You're not."

Draco was not sure how long they stood there, holding, and petting, and murmuring nonsense words that somehow seemed to be a conversation. He was not sure if Harry understood, because Draco did not. The closeness (it was something much more than their current physical situation. It went deeper than that and for the life of him, Draco could not figure out where it began and ended. More importantly, _when_ it had begun) they seemed to share began to unsettle Draco, and despite the pep talk on how he could not return Harry's feelings, he could not seem to turn away from this embrace. It was real, and somehow, he could feel the relief Harry emanated. Draco could not bring himself to break that yet.

"Don't forget about me!"

Ayida seemed to come out of nowhere and threw herself around their legs, screaming like a wild banshee. Harry pulled away from Draco laughing, but somehow his fingers remained entangled in the ends of his hair. Draco decided he did not have the energy to remove them. Besides, he liked the gentle tug on his scalp.

"We would never forget about our princess," Harry grinned down at her, petting her head with his free hand. "Would we Draco?"

Harry was grinning at him, but the clearly innocent comment hit a chord and Draco was barely able to smile. "Of course not," he replied. _Although I already have… _he thought with an audible breath. Ayida smiled wide and hugged him around the knees for a moment before skipping towards the house (though how well she actually managed to skip when the snow reached her knees was questionable), and finally falling onto her back to make a snow angel.

"I didn't mean it like that," Harry said apologetically. "I'm –"

"Nobody said you did," Draco interrupted sharply. "And if you walk around eggshells with me and what you say, I bloody will curse you."

"Point taken."

"I'm going inside."

"We'll be right behind you."

Draco stomped through snow and once on the deck cleared the mess from his clothes with a simple spell and went inside. He was just hanging his things away in the front entryway when he heard Harry and Ayida tromp in through the back.

"Draco? We're going to make hot chocolate if you want some!" Harry called through the house.

Rolling his eyes and summoning a ribbon, Draco made his way to the kitchen, pulling back his hair as he went. "No need to shout."

Harry grinned as Draco rounded the corner. "Ayida, go use the bathroom!" he shouted, some sort of glint entering his eyes. They listened to her scamper up the stairs and Draco swallowed thickly. He was not sure he liked what Harry must be thinking. "Fuck," Harry murmured, cornering Draco against the wall.

"What?" Draco asked, suddenly feeling defensive.

"I can't help it. One minute, I just want to… to hug you and just be content like that until we're interrupted, and the next I look at you and your cheeks are pink and your hair is a mess, and your eyes… are cloudy and I want nothing more than to just _have_ you, and…." Draco pressed himself against the wall, but Harry's arms wound around his waist and tugged. The blond resisted as much as he could, obstinately pushing his shoulders back and tried so hard not to think of how Harry was pressing against his hips. "_Draco_." The name left him in a whimper. Harry began pressing Draco's hips back to the wall, his eyes frantically searching Draco's for a sign of resistance as if it was not already apparent in his body language. "I want you," Harry whispered and he gently nudged Draco's chin up with his nose and kissed him beneath it.

The protest Draco was working on fell silent and he was not sure if the sound that _did_ escape was a whimper or his words just dying. Harry cupped his face and kissed him, eyes open and searching. "Harry."

It was supposed to be a protest and Draco thought it did sound something like one, but Harry decided it meant 'go.' As if in a different world, Draco stared over Harry's shoulder as they kissed, eyes resolutely focused on the cupboard across the room. A low, guttural moan echoed in their mouths, and Draco decided that Harry truly did not realise how empty this made him feel. Never in his whole life had he been so torn about what was up and what was down. One minute, he decided that he would never love Harry, the next, they were kissing and Draco was thinking about it all over again. Could he? Maybe. But _could_ he? He did not know.

Then Harry tenderly smoothed a hand over his hip (and when that hand had gone beneath his shirt, Draco didn't know), and for a moment Draco forgot everything and his eyes fell closed.

In the moment of darkness, Draco felt a true moment of clarity and just as quickly he had closed his eyes, he pushed Harry away. Harry, bewildered and glassy eyed, blinked and pressed his swollen lips together. "Draco?"

"How can you be so bloody selfish?" Draco hissed. "Have you not thought at all to what's going on here? _I don't remember you. _Yes, I know our past. Enough people have fucking told me, Harry. I'm your husband. That word might mean something to you, but the fact remains that it doesn't mean anything to _me_. How can you just _expect_ me to fall back into the role of a husband again?"

Harry looked as though he had been hit. It was a look that Draco was beginning to loathe. "I didn't expect you to."

"No," Draco laughed bitterly. "Don't give me that. You might want to think yourself saintly, but you don't have to come out and say it directly that you want me to act like your husband. It's in what you don't say, and believe me, it's as loud as if you were screaming in my bloody ear."

"Draco –"

"I'm just trying to figure everything out, Harry," he interrupted. "I've had a lot thrown at me in a very short time frame, and you're making this more difficult than it has to be. Do us both a favour and just… _stop_. Just stop."

Before Harry could say anything, Draco turned on his heel and left the room.

"Daddy!" Ayida's voice called two hours later. Moments after, she came bounding into the guest room, eyes bright. "Daddy, daddy said that dinner is done. You hafta come eat now."

Draco set his book down on the table beside him and smiled. "I thought I smelled something cooking. Did you help?"

Ayida wrinkled her nose. "No! I was colouring! Silly!" She jumped in his lap, just managing to miss something rather important. He let out a sigh of relief. She stared at his face thoughtfully for a few moments and then made herself comfortable in his lap. "You and daddy seem awfully upset today. I don't know why because…" she smacked her lips together, "because _I'm_ happy because daddy is finally home. I think you should be too."

Draco smiled and pulled her hair behind her shoulders. "I am happy that he's home and safe, Ayida. It's just that sometimes adults have problems that make them worry. Your daddy and I have some right now we're trying to work through. But it's nothing that you need to think about. We'll take care of it. Okay?"

She shrugged. "Okay, but I like it better when people are kissing and not yelling."

For that, Draco kissed her cheek. "You're a very smart girl, and I'm lucky you're my daughter."

A soft knock on the open door interrupted Ayida's bright smile. Draco felt his face flush at the knowledge that Harry had probably heard most of their conversation. However, Harry's face was impassive as he looked at the two sitting in the chair. "Ayida, did you tell your father that dinner is done?"

"Yes," she replied in a long, suffering voice. "But we're having a _grown-up_ talk."

"Ayida," both men reproached at once. Harry fell silent immediately. "You shouldn't talk to him like that," Draco picked up the thread. "It's very disrespectful."

"Sorry, daddy."

"I think you should apologise to him, not me," Draco said when she refused to look at Harry.

She lifted her shoulders and ducked her head as a turtle would so when approaching Harry, and Draco had to fight hard not to smile at her. He did not know if he was biased, but he thought that there was no doubt that she was the cutest little girl the world had ever known. Upon a glance at Harry, Draco discerned that he was having the same trouble not cracking a smile. It was true then. They had made the world's cutest girl together. Nobody could deny it. And with that thought, Draco did smile. He thought himself lucky that Ayida had her back turned to him.

"Sorry," she murmured contritely. Her eyes went large and innocent. "You're not mad at me, right, daddy? 'Cause I really am sorry."

Draco coughed to hide his snort of laughter. Harry shook his head seriously. "As long as you know not to talk to me like that again, then I'm not upset with you."

"Oh, I know. I'll never do it again. I promise. Can we go eat dinner now?"

"Just lead the way," Harry replied magnanimously, holding out his arm. Ayida trotted happily from the room and for a moment, Draco met eyes with Harry and smiled. "After you," Harry tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, his arm still extended.

"I'm not a bloody woman, but thank you anyway," Draco left the room with a smile. Harry hummed but did not say anything. They walked beside each other stiffly and strangely, very slowly. Draco glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye each time Harry cleared his throat. Upon the fourth time and halfway down the stairs, Draco cleared his own throat in slight annoyance.

"Well," Draco finally broke the silence. "I've decided that you and I, well, we have made the cutest girl on the face of this earth. I don't think anybody could deny it, really."

"No," Harry smiled slightly. "I can't imagine anybody denying it. Of course, we are her parents and so must be a bit biased, don't you think?"

"Bias has nothing to do with it. It's simple fact, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Of course it is."

They had now reached the dining room to find Ayida digging in the mashed potatoes with her bare hands. Draco cleared his throat again and sat opposite her. "Did you wash your hands?"

"Yes."

"Are you lying to me?"

"I did!" she exclaimed, face now full of potatoes. Harry sat down calmly at the head of the table, seemingly intent on watching how things unfolded.

Draco made a show of tapping his chin. "Everyone hold out your hands then." Frowning slightly, Harry did as he was told, slowly followed by their daughter. Draco made a show of waving his wand dramatically and silently cleaned their hands and then his own. "So, if this is the way dinner works around here, I suppose I can get my hands dirty as well." Without further ado, he stuck his hand deep in the potatoes.

Harry grimaced while Ayida shrieked with laughter. "Draco!" Harry cried.

Draco smirked. "A deal then. Ayida, tonight we eat with our hands. Tomorrow we continue eating like kings and queens with forks and knives, all right?"

"But I'm a princess!"

"Then you will eat like a princess, won't you? And how do princesses eat?"

"With forks and knives?" she asked brightly.

"Yes!"

Looking between both of her parents, she picked up a fork and ate her mashed potatoes. Harry stared at her for a moment before turning his impressed stare on Draco. "That was great, Draco."

Calmly wiping his hand clean, Draco raised a brow at him. "Did you ever doubt my abilities?"

Harry almost smiled. "Of course not."

"Well. Let's eat then."

"Right. I think I'll pass on the potatoes."

"Seconded. Pass the peas, please."

Over the bowl of peas, they smiled at each other.

The evening was spent quietly. Draco continued his reading in the recliner whilst Harry and Ayida played quietly near his feet. Over the top of his book, Draco kept catching Harry staring at him in what he obviously thought was a discreet manner. It was driving Draco barmy, and when the grandfather clock struck half eight, Draco closed his book with a snap and stood.

"I'm going to bed," he announced.

"It's early yet," Harry protested, already half off the floor. "Ayida's bedtime isn't even for another half hour."

"I'm tired," Draco replied. He knew, of course, that Harry had been waiting for Ayida's bedtime so that they could speak privately, but Draco did not feel physically or emotionally ready for that step. "Ayida, I would like a hug goodnight." She bounced up from the floor and hugged him tightly, practically climbing up his body to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you," he murmured against her head, hugging her tightly.

"I love you, too, daddy." She wiggled from his arms and he let her drop to her feet. "Goodnight!" she waved and plopped back to the floor to play with her dolls.

Draco smiled at her for a moment before taking notice of Harry, who refused to stop staring. _I'm in charge of this_, Draco thought determined. He stepped forward and kissed Harry on the cheek, as far from his mouth as he could get. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Sleep well," Harry murmured, and Draco knew he was still staring as he ascended the stairs.

Hours later, Draco was fighting to fall asleep and his latest tossing around had ended with him on his back, his legs sticking out from his blankets up to his knees, and his arms spread over his head. He knew his limbs would be asleep within a few minutes, but decided not to care and continued staring wide-eyed at the ceiling when he heard the door creak open. He quietly moved his gaze to the door and saw Harry creeping inside. Harry shut the door behind him and approached the foot of the bed. "Draco?" he whispered. Draco shut his eyes partway and pretended to sigh in his sleep. Harry sighed in disappointment. "I thought you would be asleep already." The end of the bed dipped and a warm hand was placed on Draco's bare shin. Suddenly, Draco wished he had more than just boxers on.

For a long time, the room was completely silent. The only indication Harry was still there was the gentle stroking motion he had started on the blonde's leg. "It's silly," Harry whispered after a while. "I'm just staring at your leg and thinking how much I actually missed your leg and your albino hair." Draco had to bite his tongue so that he would not protest. Harry continued. "It's so soft." And Draco was thoroughly shocked to hear tears choking his words. "God, even your pubic hair is soft…. It might just be that I'm so besotted with you that I think like that – and I can't believe I ever could forget anything about you, even something so trivial."

Draco blinked, biting back the laughter that wanted to shout out at the absurdity of this one-sided conversation.

"Then I think," Harry continued, "what must it be like to be you right now? To have forgotten me altogether… I can't even imagine. And… and what's it like to know that some complete stranger is completely one hundred percent devoted and so _fucking_ in love with you that it hurts to breathe when I think of the fact that just maybe you don't love me any more? Despite what you might think, I have thought about the possibility, and you know what? It makes me feel like you've died all over again."

The bed rose again as if Harry had slunk off the bed. Harry grabbed Draco's foot, tickling it on accident. Draco felt as if his lip would bleed soon if he did not stop trying to bite a hole through it. "Sorry," Harry murmured when his foot twitched. "I know you can be ticklish." Something wet dripped onto Draco's big toe and it took him a moment to place it. It was a tear. "I love your feet," Harry exclaimed quietly, his voice choked. "I love every bit of you, and I know that's so much to hear if I ever tell you when you're awake, but I do. I swear that even if you leave me, I'll never _ever_ be with another man." He laughed. "It sounds so _stupid_, but I swear I won't. I can't imagine it. I never could imagine it, Draco, and someday I'll explain Matthew to you if you'll let me."

He let out a short, humourless laugh, and seemed to almost absent-mindedly kiss Draco's inner foot. Draco strained to see him afterwards, but could only see the top of his wayward hair. The blond turned eyes up to the ceiling, praying for patience to understand. "He's talking to my foot!" he mouthed in silent bewilderment.

Harry's hand had begun stroking the top of his foot and his breaths were blowing against the bottom. It was like a foot rub… albeit a bizarre foot rub, but it was hardly unpleasant. Draco relaxed and remembering that he was supposed to be sleeping, began to breathe deeply for a few minutes, breaking off with a deep, sleepy sigh when he began to get bored. Harry's hand had long gone still and judging by the breaths on his skin, Draco was sure he had fallen asleep. He was just getting ready to move his foot (his toes were getting ice cold) when Harry's hand movement resumed slightly.

"I had wanted to ask you earlier if you would sleep in my room with me," Harry murmured, his voice heavy with sleep. Draco presumed he was speaking again to keep himself from falling asleep. "I just wanted to sleep with you, nothing more, Draco. After dinner, I kept talking myself into it, saying I would do it when Ayida went to bed, but then…. I almost let myself hope that you would have taken the initiative and gone into my bed already. Actually… that's our bed. We bought it together before we got married. Anyway, I was scared of what you would say if I asked."

Draco nodded minutely. He was scared he would have said yes and taken the lead and done a little more than sleep. It was a good thing that he had gone to bed earlier. Then again, here Harry was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed, cuddling with his foot. It was all Draco could do from dragging the blanket from the bed and wrapping it around them both.

"I'll take what I can get," Harry murmured after a short pause, and then kissed his foot again.

Then it hit Draco like a tonne of bricks. Here Harry was, the time getting close to midnight now as he had been in here for an _hour_, and admitting to a supposedly sleeping Draco that he would take cuddling with his _foot_ on the floor over sleeping in a large, comfortable bed alone. He had had his doubts as to how much Harry loved him (despite the ring Snape had given back to him), but now it was clear. Harry loved him, really, really _loved_ him. He was hurting so much and so hopeful that Draco would return some degree of that emotion. Everything Harry had said in the past hour finally began to hit home.

It did not have the effect that perhaps Harry wanted. All the knowledge made Draco despair. What was he to do with a man who wanted no one else? He cared about Harry but not to that measure where he could devote himself so completely, especially when he knew he was still so angry with everything! A wail began to build within his chest and he wished Harry would leave so that he could let it out.

How could Harry love him that much!

A few more minutes of silent agony passed. Draco fought with himself to stay still, to not get up and let Harry hold him until they both fell asleep, because despite what his entire body thought, it would not make things better! After what seemed hours, Harry kissed the bottom of his foot a last time and stood. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to look up at him. Harry pulled the blanket over his foot and tucked it snugly in. "Good night, Draco," he whispered. "I would kiss your forehead, but I think I would just crawl under the blankets with you instead."

_Please go! _Draco screamed inwardly. _Stop being so fucking honest! I can hear you fine! Go! Go! Good night! _

"I love you," he added as a final touch, much to Draco's annoyance, but did finally leave. The blond waited until Harry's bedroom door closed and then rolled over with a quiet howl, curling into a foetal position. He could not believe how much he hurt all over. It was as if he had been running for hours with no break. He hurt in places he did not know could hurt, and he clutched his stomach as it roiled in turmoil. Harry's last words kept replaying and flashing within his mind – _I love you_ – and something was grasping in his chest. It hurt so badly and he just wanted to cry but he couldn't. His eyes were dry and his throat choked as if he were out of breath.

Suddenly the door flew open and Harry hurried inside. Only then did Draco realise that he was making an awful noise and he was thrashing. The blankets had been thrown to the floor. "Draco!" Harry cried and grasped his arms so that he would stop moving. Draco attempted to say 'Harry' but only a wordless, strangled yell escaped. Harry wandlessly closed the door and silenced the room before fighting Draco's twitching body into his arms and holding him close. Draco hardly had time to wonder what was happening to him before he felt his head burrowing into Harry's neck and the twitching begin to diminish. The pain was still pulsing all over and he felt the beginnings of a migraine. It took several minutes before Draco's body stilled completely and both men relaxed against each other.

"You scared the shit out of me," Harry said fiercely, pulling Draco right into his lap. Draco grunted weakly in response. His body seemed to be going numb with pain and he was limp against Harry. "Has this happened before?"

Draco worked his mouth to get the saliva working again before he croaked an answer. "No. I think it was just a nightmare," he lied.

"Don't lie to me, Draco! It looked like you were having a seizure!"

"It wasn't a seizure, Harry."

"So you know what it is?"

Draco closed his eyes and pressed his hand against Harry's bare chest (had he been bare chested before, Draco wondered faintly?). His skin was warm and Draco nuzzled against him. Harry seemed to forget for a moment what they were talking about and pressed his nose into Draco's hair. "Well?" Harry prompted after a few pleasant moments. He seemed partly reluctant to break the moment.

The blond leaned away, his body and head protesting the movement and held Harry's eye. "As far as I can tell, it was a nightmare, Harry. I was distressed and it took me a few minutes to really wake up, all right?"

"What were you dreaming about then?"

"I don't remember."

Harry looked sceptical, but nodded anyway. "Are you feeling all right now?"

"As expected," Draco nodded, suddenly very much dreading Harry's imminent departure. The thought seemed to be strangling his throat.

"You'll be able to sleep then?" Harry seemed to be stalling for time as well, which made Draco's decision easier. Somehow he knew he would not handle being alone tonight very well. Besides that, this was the second chance that was offered tonight. There would not be another one.

Draco lowered his eyelids and stared up at Harry, feeling awkward and shy, but wanting so badly for the pressure at his throat to go away. "If you'll stay with me," he whispered.

Harry blinked rapidly, his cheeks turning pink as well. "Really?"

"Or we could go to your room?" He was interested in lying in that bed again, despite his best efforts not to be interested. The pressure of pain was lessening rapidly.

"Oh," Harry breathed and seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "We bought that bed together," he informed Draco for the second time that night. He seemed breathless. "This bed is torn apart…. We may as well go in my room then." Draco nodded. Harry pressed their hands together and led Draco off the bed. Immediately, his knees buckled, but Harry caught him beneath the elbows. When Draco sheepishly looked up, Harry's eyes were narrowed dangerously. "Do nightmares always make you weak in the knees, Draco?"

"It's just the handsome man I have as my company," he quipped, and was pleasantly surprised when Harry blushed, obviously despite his best efforts not to.

"Shut up. I know there's something wrong here, and you're not telling me." Without prior warning, Harry bent at the waist and scooped Draco over his shoulder. Draco squawked in surprise. "Well, you can't stand; you can't walk, so I'm carrying you."

It was obviously meant to punish him in some odd way, so Draco stayed silent as Harry carried him like a sack of potatoes to the next bedroom. "Nice view," Draco smacked Harry's backside playfully. Harry laughed and then threw him down onto the bed. Draco groaned when his head bounced back off the mattress. It only served as a reminder of his nasty headache. "Headache," he squeezed his eyes shut when Harry questioned him with a raised brow.

"Lie back on the bed. I have some potion for that in the bathroom."

While Harry disappeared into the bathroom, Draco scooted back against the pillows and pulled the blankets over himself. It was probably the best bed he had ever laid in, he assumed and smiled lazily. It had nothing to do with the fact that Harry would soon be joining him. Absolutely nothing. Harry came back and sat at Draco's side. "Drink it all," he said quietly and pushed a glass of potion into his hand. "It should help any pain you have."

"I recall you telling me that you're horrible at potions –"

"I didn't brew it," Harry smiled, his hand unconsciously settling on Draco's bare stomach. "Drink up." Draco did as he was told, eyes meeting Harry's over the brim. Harry took the glass from when it was empty and quietly searched Draco's face. "All right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"It's not a problem." Harry silently crawled over Draco and onto his side of the bed. "You'll be all right to sleep now?"

"I hope so," Draco snuggled into the covers. He looked over at Harry when he had the covers up to his chin. "I like this bed. Thank you for letting me sleep with you in it. I know you must think I'm the biggest prat today, but… I don't know my arse from a hole in the ground right now."

"Well, it's a good thing I want to take care of your annoying arse, isn't it?"

"Pervert," Draco smiled.

Harry gave him a small smile. "You know what I mean, Draco," he said softly.

He did know what he meant, and that made him hurt for an entirely different reason. "I think I might be the luckiest bloke in England," Draco said before he knew what he was saying. He promptly blushed and so did Harry. Draco turned to his side and snuggled against Harry's side. All he knew was that at that moment, his throat was no longer constricted and he felt at home. "The luckiest, most confused bloke in all of England."

"Goodnight, Draco." Harry wrapped an arm around him, and together, they fell into a comfortable sleep.

The house was quiet except for an annoying song that Draco supposed was part of a programme that Ayida watched when he woke up the next morning. Harry was gone, and the bedroom door was closed. He slowly untangled himself from the blankets and decided to take a shower in Harry's bathroom instead of the one in the hall.

The shower was hot and somehow reassured him that he was not a complete idiot for what he had allowed to happen. Afterwards, he took his time and wandered around the bathroom nude, in search of a comb and a bathrobe. He found the latter in a linen closet next to the door, and the comb was stuffed in a travel bag that must have appeared sometime since Harry returned. Draco recalled spotting it in the hospital room.

Downstairs a few minutes later, Draco found Harry lounging on the couch, fully dressed and recently showered. The television was still on, but the volume had been lowered and the channel turned to BBC. Harry was paying it no attention as he was busy watching Ayida play outside through the windows. Draco turned to look and saw her flying on a toy broom.

"I didn't know she had one," he admitted. "I had thought of buying one for her the last time I took her to Diagon Alley."

Harry startled and once he recovered, smiled up at him. "I thought I had heard you moving around up there." He turned back to look at their daughter. "She's a natural at flying, of course. Or she will be once I stop pretending to let her steer on my broom," he grinned. Draco felt his heart skip. "Frankly, I can't believe that her broom wasn't the first thing she pulled out when you brought her back. I bet she missed it."

"She never mentioned anything to me." Draco shrugged and sat beside him.

Harry pulled him close and kissed his lips briefly. "Good morning, by the way. Actually, it's closer to afternoon." Draco forced a smile. Merlin, he had really messed up last night. "Are you hungry?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll just make some toast."

"Then I'll make your tea," Harry suggested, already getting up. "Nice robe and slippers by the way." He opened the door and stuck his head out. "Time to come in, your Highness!" he called and left the door open as she slowly tromped her way to the house. "She's a princess this morning, so let's pretend with her to avoid a fit. I think she could be in one of her moods."

Ayida noticed Draco after she took off her shoes and handed Harry her cloak. She squealed in delight and flew at him. He lifted her into the air before she could plod him over and hugged her tightly. "Daddy!" she cried. "That's not how to greet a princess! I hafta hug you first! Then we bow!"

"Oh, I am sorry, your highness. Will you ever forgive me?" He set her down and bowed courteously. She could hardly contain her giggles as she clumsily curtsied.

"You're silly, daddy!" she giggled and then ran down the hall into her playroom. Draco watched her go, and then feeling the weight of eyes on him, turned to Harry. He was looking at him with an adoring soft smile. Draco found it suddenly hard to breathe.

"I always knew you would be fantastic with her," Harry's smile grew. "I just never thought I would be lucky enough to see it." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I feel like I'm repetitive, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole thing." Before Draco could do anything, Harry had pulled their bodies close and was running his fingers through his hair.

"Your hair has grown so long." He gently pulled a piece to his face and smelled it. "It's almost as long as your father's hair was."

"I know…. I've thought about cutting it a few times since I came back, but I never do. Do you hate it?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "But I do like it shorter. I don't have any fond memories of your father after all."

"Yeah, my fath…." He trailed off, a recent memory coming to mind. "Wait… you told me before how he was killed. What's the whole story?"

Harry closed his eyes and moved back a step. "Let's go in the kitchen. I'll make you tea and toast, all right?"

"And you'll tell me the whole truth, right?"

"Everything."

A shortened version of the story took the better part of an hour as Ayida kept interrupting them, and by the end, Draco felt properly numb. Harry looked like he was about to be sick. "You hate me," Harry said matter-of-factly after some minutes of silence passed. Draco had his head in his arms, attempting to process everything, and looked up upon this assertion. "You have every right to of course, it's just –"

"Don't be an idiot," Draco interrupted. "I'm already pissed off about everything else you've done to me in the past couple months to be pissed off about this."

Harry looked stricken as if he had begun to believe that Draco had forgotten everything that had happened. "But…"

"Yes, you killed my father, but it was obvious self-defence. In this case, he deserved it."

"I was protecting you as well."

"I know," Draco plopped his head back onto his arm and waved his free hand in a circle. "Part of my point… he wanted to hand his own son over for… for well, I know. I've made peace with him being dead, Harry. Frankly, I'm not entirely surprised that you killed him, so I'm not going to make a deal out of it. Unless you lied to me about any of it…."

"I didn't lie! Even if I _wanted_ to lie about something about our past, it certainly wouldn't be about this, Draco! You were there!"

Draco turned his head so that he could look at Harry. "Just testing…. I just wish I could remember it for myself." Harry didn't have to say anything. Draco already knew he agreed. After a few minutes, Draco sat up. "Thank you for telling me. I think I'm going to go get dressed, and then I have some things to do."

"I thought you might like to know more about the past."

"I'd rather leave it so that I can try to remember myself."

"Okay," Harry nodded. "What do you have to do today?"

"Nothing important." He went upstairs without another word. Draco had decided upon waking up that he was going to see his healer about the episode he had experienced. It obviously had something to do with Harry as he had been quite distressed about the situation before it had happened. He figured that if anybody could tell him anything, it would be his healer.

"When will you be back?" Harry asked when he came back downstairs.

"I don't know."

"In time for dinner? I'm making something tonight."

"I can try."

Harry followed him to the front hall and watched him put his shoes on. "It will be ready around seven."

"I'll keep it in mind," Draco swung his cloak around his shoulders and fastened it.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Harry retrieved a dark red scarf that hung from a hook. "It's cold outside," he said quietly and wrapped it around Draco's neck, almost using it as an excuse to get close.

"Thank you."

Then Harry turned Draco's chin up and kissed him. It was long and soft, and Draco whimpered quietly, licking his lips when Harry pulled away. He wished Harry would stop doing that. "I love you." And that too. The blond nodded and left quietly.

"Our next appointment is not for another two days," the healer pointed out when he opened the door to find Draco.

"I know, and I apologise for any inconvenience, however, something happened last night that I am not willing to let go unattended."

Walkowiak stepped back to show him in. "I am just having my tea, so I hope you do not mind a few crumbs on my chin."

Draco bowed his head with a small smile. "Of course not." He stepped in and noticed that they were not alone. Walkowiak's assistant, Cade Bertram was reclined in a comfortable looking chair. Today, Cade had his dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail and his already dark eyes were lined with just a little bit of eye liner. He wore the latest fashion in robes from Gladrags over his lean frame. He was vanishing a stain of tea from his chest.

"Don't like the look of brown on blue?" Draco asked with a smirk and sat in the chair beside him. Walkowiak sat in the comfortable chair across from them. They made a rather crude triangle around a small table.

"Not as much as I like the look of Cade on Draco," he retorted with a smirk of his own.

Draco snorted. "Cute. My husband was released from hospital yesterday. I think he would be more than happy to kick your arse if he were to hear you say something like that."

"I doubt he has the strength to do so. Besides, even if he did, my fiancée has the strength and speed to do a quicker and better job."

"Believe me, Harry has the strength to do many things."

Cade raised a brow, but Draco gave him an enigmatic smile. "Tea, Draco?" Walkowiak asked, pointing to a clean cup.

"No, thank you. I just had an enlightening conversation with Harry that required more than my fair share."

The healer took a sip from his own cup. "I will speculate that whatever has happened last night has something to do with his return?"

"It has to do with him in general." He proceeded to tell the two men exactly what had happened the previous night.

"Did you get all that?" Walkowiak asked Cade when Draco finally trailed off. At the beginning of the story, Cade had summoned a roll of parchment and quill; after sucking on the quill, let it write feverishly by itself while he watched over it like a hawk, making sure all the details were correct.

"Every last bit."

The healer was silent for a few moments, his hands steeped beneath his chin. "I admit that it's very peculiar. However, I have an idea. Draco, I understand that in the past, you have not fought the feelings you felt for Mr. Potter. Correct me if I am wrong, but is this the first time you have fought the feelings?"

"I suppose that it is the first time I have actively fought it while he has been in the room."

"I imagine it was much more difficult with him in the room coupled with him telling you how much he loves you. Now, to the point, Draco. We've covered how the potion has been turned to poison because of an improper brewing and your unwillingness to forget. What I believe happened yesterday is that for the first time since you were administered the potion, you actively aided it. However, because you have been subconsciously fighting it for so long, your body did not know what to do: let the potion take over, which would inevitably kill you, or continue fighting it by attempting to remember. The pain you described was the battle. I believe that had Harry not entered when he had, you would have been in great danger. You were giving the potion the proverbial 'all clear,' Draco. That pain was it making what could have been the last attempt at suppressing your memories. If you had not seen Harry, and had not gone with your gut instinct to sleep in his bed – so as to be close to the source of your problems – I'm afraid you wouldn't be here today, and we would have a much larger problem on our hands."

Draco sighed and let his face drop into his hands. "You know that none of this makes much sense."

Cade snorted. "Draco, be reasonable. Nothing with memory is easy to understand when you get out of the basics. Your case is probably the most complicated that I have ever seen. Your memory loss is directly correlated with _love_, Draco. In my opinion, that is one of the strongest emotions you can have. You understand that your case is high risk, and that is the reason. Love and memory are two of the most complicated and misunderstood subjects to humankind. We don't know where this will go. It could turn out horrifically, exceptional, or somewhere in-between."

"Well said," Walkowiak nodded. "Since Mr. Potter is now at home, we need to take extra precaution, especially with recent events. I suggest, Draco, that until you can accept that you have stronger feelings than a slight fancy for your husband, you keep your distance. We don't want to risk another episode like last night. It was too close for my liking. So, as soon as you leave here, make arrangements to stay somewhere else. You need to distance yourself from the situation to gain some perspective. See how it feels to be away from Mr. Potter."

"What about Ayida? She lives there."

"I didn't say you couldn't go there at all," the healer smiled. "Limit yourself to an hour or two. If you want to spend more time with her, take her to where you are staying. Take her for ice cream. The objective is not to seclude yourself entirely from Harry. I would still like for you to spend time with him, just at a more manageable level."

Draco nodded. Walkowiak cleared his throat and crossed his legs. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have an appointment in five minutes and I need to prepare," Walkowiak explained apologetically. "Draco, we'll continue with the procedure we left off with last time in two days." Draco nodded again and the healer turned to Cade. "This appointment isn't one of yours, Cade. You can take the rest of the day off."

"Great! Busy, Draco? I could use a drink."

"I concur," he nodded and stood.

"Remember to keep your distance, Draco!" the healer called after him and Cade. They both waved and left. A few minutes later they entered The Leaky Cauldron and took seats at the bar. They each ordered a mead and Draco drank half of his cup before he set it down.

"You are thirsty today, aren't you?" Cade eyed Draco's glass warily.

"I'm filling up on ammunition. I need to go to Malfoy Manor to see what shape the place is in before I decide to stay there, and then I need to tell Harry why I'm leaving his house. I think I fight better when I'm drunk."

"Good theory," Cade tipped his glass and drank deeply.

A few hours later, each of them was drunk and leaning against each other, singing a song that was playing on the Wizarding Wireless. "I think you boys are ready to settle your bills," Tom the innkeeper said warily as the song ended.

"That song reminded me of Harry last night," Draco giggled. "Oh, I love you, Draco. I would rather have your foot than nothing. Your pubic hairs are so soft." The pair looked at each other and fell into convulsions of laughter. They held on tightly and gasped for breath. "He called me an albino!" Draco cried through tears of laughter. "Why would he say that?"

"Because you are an albino!" Cade answered gleefully. "Look how white your hair is! I bet your soft pubic hair is even white!"

They fell into stitches again and as Draco went to pound his fist on the counter, he lost his balance and fell off the stool. Cade's laughter died away, even as Draco continued to roll on the floor. "Uh-oh," Cade said through giggles. "You're in trouble, Draco."

Draco felt somebody clumsily pick him up and opened his eyes. Cade had hefted him off the floor and they leaned precariously against each other. "Draco," a soft voice said from behind. The blond turned and saw Harry. He felt himself light up and lurched forward to hug him. Harry stepped to the side and Draco missed, almost falling flat on his face. "This is where you've been, Draco? I've been really worried."

"Harry," Draco managed to get a grip on his arm. "I said I'd try to come. Cade and I… we've been drinking a lot."

"That much is obvious. It's almost nine." He suddenly pulled his wand out and cast a sobering charm just strong enough to sober him up, but not enough to take away the effects. Draco clutched at his head, moaning. "It's as much as you deserve."

Draco blinked and sighed. "Harry… I forgot the time. I didn't mean to worry you."

Harry nodded and looked down. "I heard what you were saying. I take it that you were awake the whole time last night?"

"Oh, God," Draco moaned for more than one reason. His stomach was upset and he was sure he was about to vomit. "Harry, I didn't mean it, and I'm sorry. I didn't feel like talking last night and you just kept at it."

"How embarrassing," Harry murmured. "You should have said something and – Wait… that means you couldn't have had a nightmare. Draco, what happened to you last night? I know you know!"

"I'm going home, mate," Cade slurred. "Keep your distance from that one, we told you to remember."

Harry quietly watched Cade leave, his face impassive. "You've been told to keep your distance from me?" he asked calmly crossing his arms over his chest. "By who?"

"Just some friends. It doesn't matter. Harry, listen –"

"Who was that anyway?" Harry interrupted, finally turning to look at Draco.

"His name is Cade. We met a few weeks ago."

"He's good looking."

"I hadn't noticed." Harry stared hard at Draco, who after a few moments threw his hands up in frustration. "For fuck's sake, Harry, what do you want from me? Are you jealous of Cade?"

"You were touching a lot."

Draco rolled his eyes up to the ceiling asking for patience. "Did you not see how sloppy drunk I was until you cast that charm?"

"You were also making fun of what I said to you last night. You told him."

"And somebody else too," Draco snarled. "We all had a good laugh, and then I made up a story about how we fucked, and you bottomed. Cade decided that he was going to go to the _Prophet_ to tell everybody that you bottom! Then we laughed about that as well!"

Harry's face screwed up as he attempted to reign in his emotions. "Let's just… let's go home and talk about this. We're beginning to make a scene."

"What, embarrassed to admit to the public that you like to ride my cock? Guess what, Harry? You're gay! They suspect it already! Hey, everybody!" he called to the other patrons. There was hardly anybody there anyway. "Harry Potter, your saviour, the man who killed Voldemort with his bare hands likes it when he has my cock up his arse! Imagine that! He likes it when his husband fucks him! If you run fast enough, maybe the _Prophet_ will put that as their headline tomorrow morning!"

"Stop it," Harry whispered his cheeks aflame and his breathing laboured. He grabbed Draco's arm and tugged on it. "Let's go home."

"What makes you think your house is my home?" Draco snarled, wrenching his arm free.

"What's gotten into you?" Harry whispered fiercely. "You were fine this morning!"

"Was I? Maybe the problem isn't me, Harry. Maybe it's you. You seem to have the idea stuck in your head that everything is fine. Just because I slept in your bed last night and kissed a few times this morning does not make everything _fine_. Do you honestly not realise what I'm going through right now? I've had my world flipped upside down and you expect me to fall back into your arms, no questions asked. _I'm not okay with that_!"

"You were ready to fall back into my arms last night," Harry stated, eyes darting around the pub. Everybody's eyes were on them after Draco's outburst.

"If I had been ready, I would have moved when you were busy pouring your heart out to me while I was supposed to be sleeping."

"Then why did you do it? You suggested you sleep in my bed, Draco, not me."

"No, I believe it was _your_ idea. I'm sorry if I took pity on you."

Harry seemed to ignore him. "I would have been fine in just knowing that you were okay."

"No, you would have been fine with just my foot," the blond sneered.

"Why do you have to be like this?" Harry took a step back. "You haven't been this horrible to me since… since –"

"Since when, Harry? You'll have to elaborate because I don't _remember_ anything about you."

Face screwed up again, Harry backed further away. "I'm perfectly aware of that, thank you," he whispered. "Perhaps you shouldn't come home with me tonight."

"I wasn't planning on staying, I assure you. However, I will need to get my things."

"Wh… where are you staying?" Harry asked his voice small.

"You just kicked me out of your home, Potter. I don't think that it's any of your concern where I will be going."

"But you're my husband!"

"It's convenient, Harry, that you only act it when it's expedient for your purposes. Right now, _husband_ is just a meaningless word to me. Why? Because you've made it so. This is all your doing, and I hope you realise that."

They stared each other down for a few seconds before Draco dug into his pocket and paid Tom the money he owed. "Please wait ten minutes before you come back. I would rather not speak to you any longer tonight. I might say something I'll regret."

"Draco…"

He Disapparated.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Please review!! Also, I am not making any promises as to when chapter twelve will be posted as my beta has not yet returned chapter 13 and I get nervous if I am posting too fast in that respect. If you would like updates as to when I am posting, please feel free to join my Yahoo group. The link is on my profile.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** I know it's been a long time and I apologize. School kicked my butt, but it's over now and I intend to finish this fic before the seventh book is released. So. Here is chapter twelve. To get a more thorough update on what is happening with the fic, please feel free to join my Yahoo group. I believe the link is on my author page. Thanks for your patience! 

Thanks to all who have reviewed and to my awesome beta, PadfootsBitch!

* * *

**Lacuna**  
_Chapter Twelve  
_:.:.:.:.:.:

The Manor was eerily quiet. In his childhood, something had always been going on. There had always been noise somewhere, a drift of voices from the parlour, a house elf Apparating from one place to another, the stirrings of the paintings, the rustling of animals and plants from the gardens, his mother's soothing voice, and his father's demanding tone. There had also been an array of smells. Sweets were baking in the kitchen, breakfast wafted up to his room in the morning, dinner was readied throughout the day, and flowers were everywhere even in the winter, pipe tobacco when there were guests, his mother's perfume….

Draco ventured down the hall that led to his bedroom, a house elf timidly following behind with his bags. The paintings on the walls followed his movements with their eyes, but otherwise did little else. Draco found it oddly disconcerting that even they were so quiet. Not a word, not a sound. Outside his bedroom door, he stopped and inhaled sharply, smelling nothing but mould and maybe just a hint of Narcissa's perfume.

"Was my mother here often?" Draco inquired without turning around, his hand resting on the handle.

"Yes, Master Malfoy!" the little elf squeaked in fear. "Mistress Malfoy is taking all of her meals here except when she is to see Master Malfoy at his new home, sir!"

"How many house elves are there?"

"Only four of us is left, sir!"

"Did you not think it prudent to keep the house from smelling like mould? Surely four of you is enough?" Draco turned and stared down at the elf, scrunching up his nose when he noticed the rags it was wearing. Filthy.

"Mistress is telling Peesy not to clean this wing, sir! Peesy not knowing Master is coming home!"

"I assume that my room is not tended to then?"

Fearfully, the small elf shook its head and then dropped the bags on the floor and fell to his knees. "Oh, Master must forgive Peesy, sir! Peesy not know to clean Master's room!" Peesy flew off his knees and ran headlong into the wall. Draco watched it continue a few more times in consternation before he grabbed Peesy by the neck of his rags and set him down next to his luggage.

"That will be enough, Peesy. I am not yet ready to retire to my room anyway. I will go to the library where I will expect tea and some of those biscuits I favour. In the meantime, you may ready my room. Also, when you can get to it, clean this hallway. It smells terrible."

"Oh, yes, Master! Master is kind! Peesy will make Master's tea and biscuits!"

The house elf Disapparated and Draco sighed. He hated house elves, not because he thought that they were such a low life form – which they were – but because a master always needed to walk on eggshells around them unless the master was particularly cruel. Draco had always hated watching the elves punish themselves. Lucius usually let them carry on until they thought they had punished themselves enough.

Sighing once more, Draco headed for the library, and was quite pleased to see that his mother must have frequented this room quite a bit. It smelled fresh with bright flowers on the tables, and looked to be quite clean. After scanning the shelves, Draco spotted a book that looked interesting (a newer purchase by Narcissa by the looks of it) and curled up in one of the squashy armchairs. As demanding as his thoughts were, Draco refused to succumb to them. He would not think about Harry and their very public fight from three days ago. He would not think about his mother, or his father for that matter. He would sit here and lose himself in this book.

However, the first words hardly captivated him, and he found his thoughts straying. After packing his things up from Harry's house the other day, Draco had gone straight to Severus. Severus was obliging and let Draco hole up in the dungeons at Hogwarts for a few days, and in return, Draco helped grade first year essays. The Potions Master did not ask why Draco was seeking solace in Hogwarts and the blond was entirely grateful for it. He just did not want to think about his husband, or how absolutely dreadful he felt about the things he had said.

Harry had not contacted him. Though Draco knew that he probably did not deserve correspondence, he still was hard pressed _not_ to feel a little disappointed that Harry did not want to try. The thought did not cross his mind that just maybe, Harry was waiting for _him_ to be ready to talk.

The previous day, Draco had gone to his healer for their scheduled appointment. Cade was sincerely apologetic about everything that happened (having read the gossip pages in the newspaper), but Draco waved his apology away. Cade was not to blame. If Harry was jealous, then it was sincerely misplaced. Even if Cade was not engaged to a woman, Draco genuinely doubted he would be interested in shagging Draco, or even the other way around.

"Your tea, Master Malfoy," a house elf interrupted his thoughts. Draco looked around to see an even smaller elf than Peesy bowing at his feet. A tray of tea and biscuits was laid neatly on a small table next to the chair.

"Thank you. I wish to be in my room in an hour."

"Yes, sir!" it squeaked and Disapparated.

After pouring tea and consuming an entire biscuit in one bite, something caught his eye on the tray. It was an envelope with his name neatly written on the outside. Swallowing thickly, he snatched at the letter and tore it open, only just remembering that the elves went through great lengths to keep owls (just another annoyance) from the master of the house. He remembered that as a child, he wished he could be treated with such reverence. Now, he found it annoying.

_Mr. Malfoy:_ the letter read.

_The trial for Narcissa Malfoy will be held next Tuesday at promptly two in the afternoon. We request your presence. Please arrive early for proper inspections. _

Draco crumpled the parchment before reading the last two lines of the letter. He gulped down the remnants of his tea, gasping as it scorched his tongue and throat, and left the library. Before long, he found himself sitting on the edge of Narcissa's bed, inhaling long and deep the scent of her perfume. Drawing his knees to his chest, Draco laid his cheek upon them and closed his eyes, pretending he could hear Narcissa move about her room, putting on make-up and humming to herself. He pretended that his mother had never taken away everything that was ever important to him. Mostly, he imagined his mother kissing his forehead and telling him everything would be all right… and he pretended to believe her.

The following week passed slowly. Draco spent much of the time alone, only venturing outside of the manor for his appointments with his healer. The healers, along with Severus, were in the process of working something for his cure, but the wait would be a while longer. Meanwhile, Walkowiak was working with his mind, attempting to retrieve Draco's dormant memories. Those sessions were anything but pleasant. Draco privately referred to the sessions as 'mind rape' as it hurt so much, but he had to put himself through it. It would help him get better, hopefully, no matter how sick it made him to do it now. When Draco was not doing everything he could to get better with the healers, he filled his time with ordering the house elves into various parts of the manor each day to purge the rooms of anything that was considered Dark magic, or anything that Draco associated with his father. He still could not bear to give things up that reminded him of his mother. The things she had done to him enraged him beyond comprehension, but when he looked at her things, all he could remember was the loving mother she had always been. It was more difficult giving up his mother than it was giving up his father.

Yet, what Draco found was most difficult to give up was Harry. It took a near constant conscious effort not to Apparate back to Harry's house. On his fourth day at the manor, Draco found a picture of himself and Harry on their wedding day stuffed into the bottommost drawer of Narcissa's dresser. The blond had stared at it for a long time, finally summoning a house elf and demanding it to somehow keep his magic anchored so that he could not Apparate to Harry's house. He was not even sure if house elves could do it, but he let himself believe it. Walkowiak had insisted that he keep his distance from Harry so as to gain some perspective on the situation. He conveniently forgot that he was still to visit.

If anything, the struggle to stay within the manor walls proved that he felt something much stronger than simple affection for Harry. He admitted to himself that, perhaps somewhere deep down, he did love Harry (otherwise, where would these consuming feelings be coming from?), but he was definitely not ready to admit that love was what he was feeling right now. He was much too angry at Harry still. Sometimes Draco wondered if perhaps he was clinging to the anger just to have something on which to focus. Anger was something he could easily understand.

The morning of the trial arrived before Draco thought he was ready. He paced his rooms for what felt like hours before lunch and paced some more afterwards. Sometime around one, a house elf announced the arrival of a visitor and Draco curiously made his way downstairs. Pansy was waiting in the arrivals room, studying a portrait of the Malfoy family. Lucius stood proud in the back, Narcissa sitting in front of him, and Draco, a boy no older than five sitting haughtily on her knee.

"You were such a snot," Pansy murmured upon hearing his footsteps. "I'd almost forgotten…. You've changed so much."

"I grew up actually," Draco replied moving to stand beside her.

"And married a Gryffindor, no less."

"I could say the same for you."

Pansy smiled, looking at Draco out of the corner of her eye. "Merlin, we are a pair, aren't we?"

"Perhaps," he murmured, studying the picture of himself.

"Although I would say that we both came to be very lucky in picking our Gryffindors. Seamus and Potter seem to be the best of the lot. I can't say that I would have ever been this happy with anybody else, even with you as I always thought it would be."

"Come now, Pansy, you don't really mean that about Harry. You loathe him, really."

Pansy grinned, not apologetically. "Loathe is a strong word. He's annoying, certainly, but he's good where it counts. Besides, he made you happy one time, and that should be good enough for any person who loves you." Draco nodded slightly, his eyes moving to Narcissa's smiling face. Pansy seemed to know what he was thinking and grasped his hand. "It should have been enough for her as well. I never thought she would do something so horrible to you."

Draco did not speak for a few minutes, silently asking whatever deities that were listening to give him strength for the rest of the day. "I suppose you've been sent as my escort?"

"No," she said defensively. "I came because Snape told me that you've locked yourself away and I knew you might appreciate a show of support today. Besides, I've resigned from my post as an Auror."

Draco looked at her completely for the first time in shock. "What? Why? You seemed to like it."

"I do," she shrugged, and could not seem to quite keep the grin off her face. "It's just that I have other things I would rather concentrate on."

"Such as?" Draco prompted.

"Well… it's just that I'm pregnant. Three months," she pulled her robes taut against her stomach to show the small bulge. "I only found out before I was assigned to San Juan. I would have refused to go if it hadn't been for you."

Draco blinked, eyes fixed firmly on her small, protruding belly. "That's great," he murmured, hand automatically reaching out to touch it. "Congratulations."

Pansy beamed. "Thank you. Well, I suppose it's time for us to go. You can't be late."

Nodding silently, Draco accepted his cloak from Peesy and fastened it around his neck. "Master is needing his scarf, sir. It is windy outside. Peesy is finding it in Master's things that he left behind." Draco blinked down at the elf. Peesy was holding up a scarlet and gold scarf.

"That can't be mine," he shook his head. "That's a Gryffindor scarf."

"Peesy is taking the only scarf Peesy sees, sir. Master must put on the scarf, sir, the weather is cold."

Grudgingly, Draco grabbed the scarf and flung it around his neck. "I hope there are no photographers present."

Pansy merely smirked. "Seamus would rather die than to try to get me to wear those colours."

"Oh, shut up," Draco snapped and pulled on her hand.

It took an inordinate amount of time to get through security at the Ministry this day, even with two wizards checking wands and passing Secrecy sensors, much as Filch had once taken pleasure in doing to students, over each wizard's person. Still, Pansy managed to push her way through the crowds of reporters and onlookers who had arrived in the Ministry for the trial by raising her voice and poking people harshly in the sides with the tip of her wand. Draco felt he barely managed the trip to the courtroom unscathed. Reporters shot questions at him as fast as the Killing curse stops the beating of a heart, and Draco was suddenly very thankful that Pansy had insisted on escorting him.

"I lost my cloak somewhere," the blond sighed after an Auror had showed them to a private room. He had taken the cloak off and held it over his arm as they had waited to have their wands weighed but had not bothered taking off the scarf – the cotton was soft against his skin and smelled strongly of having been in a box for far too long. Yet if he closed his eyes and imagined Harry wearing it, he could almost smell the other man, and that in itself was enough for him to keep wearing it. Draco wished he could stop acting like this. "I think somebody must have caught it when they were trying to get me to say something."

"I'll buy you a new one," Pansy sighed tiredly and slumped into a comfortable chair by a fire which crackled comfortingly. "Trial starts in a few minutes. Think you're ready to see her?"

"Maybe," he whispered, leaning against the side of her chair. "I don't know. Probably not. I'll probably end up…. Oh, I don't know, Pansy." He reached up and gently grasped a handful of the scarf, bringing it close to his face and with it the warmth of Harry's cologne washed through his nose and he sighed in sudden longing. "I just want…." He sighed again, unable and unwilling to elaborate on what he was feeling.

Pansy turned to look up at him, her eyes flicking briefly over his shoulder. "What do you want, Draco?"

He smiled a little wistfully. "Normality," he said quietly. "But I don't think I even know what that would be any more."

Suddenly, a warm hand gently pressed against his shoulder, and caressed down to his shoulder blade. Starting slightly, Draco turned, inexplicably surprised to see Harry standing beside him, looking worse for wear. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and lines creased his lower eyelid from obvious lack of sleep. His lips were chapped and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. Though it looked as though Harry may have pushed a comb through his hair, it also looked more unkempt than normal.

"Harry…" Draco trailed off, embarrassed when his voice left him in a whimper.

"Hi." Harry's smile was weak. "All right?"

Draco hardly noticed when his feet stumbled closer to the other man. Harry's hand then closed around his forearm. "I have been better, honestly. You look tired, Harry." Harry only massaged Draco's arm with his thumb. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited by the Ministry."

"Oh." Draco could not help but feel a little let down.

"But for the record, I would have gate-crashed had I not been invited. I wanted to be here for you." His finger briefly touched Draco's cheek as if he had meant to place his entire hand there but thought better of it at the last moment. Draco felt the touch burn and leaned closer. Something inside ached fiercely. The last time they had spoken it had been nothing pleasant and Draco felt the after effects of shame burning hotly through his stomach once again. Harry's face was contorted in sadness as he twined their fingers of both hands together. "The very last thing I want today is for Narcissa to leave that room thinking that she has won in separating us. I know that you probably can't stand the sight of me, but… but I thought that we could go in together, Draco. We'll sit together and make her think that you still love me and I still love you…." He swallowed thickly; his eyes the brightest green Draco could remember ever seeing them. "Although, I can't say I'll have to act at all."

_Oh, stop it! _Draco thought fiercely, his throat clogging painfully. "That sounds fine, Harry. I can do that. It's not a problem. It shouldn't be difficult. I will…." Draco made himself trail off, understanding that he was suddenly making a fool out of himself. Harry smiled weakly at him and finally his eyes moved from Draco to Pansy, who was ramrod straight in the chair, pretending not to listen, but the fact that her eyes were fixed avidly on them gave her away.

"Pansy," Harry nodded. "How's Seamus?"

"Proud. I'm pregnant."

"Oh! Congratulations. I'll be sure to owl him soon."

"He would like that, I'm sure. How's Draco's daughter?"

Draco stiffened, overwhelming guilt overriding his embarrassment. He had not seen her since he had left. Harry snaked his arm around his waist and pulled him close in a reassuring gesture. "Our daughter is doing wonderful. She excels in everything she attempts – smarts she will have picked up from Draco, of course."

"You can't be too dim," Draco muttered, his cheeks lighting in embarrassment.

"You flatter me," Harry said fondly, winking at Pansy as he did so.

"Shut up, you, and Pansy, look away," Draco demanded. Pansy huffed and instead of turning, left the room altogether. Draco blinked a few times before slowly turning his head to look at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at him. "It must be pregnancy hormones that are making her so excitable," the blond laughed nervously and looked away.

"Must be," Harry replied, a smile evident in his voice. He extracted his arm from Draco's waist, instead choosing to tuck a long strand of hair behind Draco's ear. "You look a little peaky, Draco. Are you all right?"

"I could say the same for you." Draco backed away a step and hesitantly met Harry's eyes.

"Bad dreams firstly… now there's insomnia. I can't concentrate, I think of you constantly, I worry about you, I pace all night, I can't eat much any more, I don't have any energy, yet I have to keep going because I have a daughter to think of…. No, I can't imagine I look my best. What's your excuse?"

Draco could not tell if Harry was reprimanding him for not visiting or if he really was just explaining what his ailment was. Maybe both? "Blunt, aren't you?"

"Nothing can really be lost from the truth, I think. Besides, I want an honest answer from you. Why do you look grey?" He reached out and again lifted a piece of Draco's hair. "Even your hair looks limp. Your eyes are dull… murky, I suppose. Your hands are shaking. No, I retract that. Your whole body is shaking like you're cold, yet I doubt you've even realised it. Draco, what have you been doing?"

Draco, who had been studying his shaking hand, which he really had not noticed, clenched it into a fist. "I've not been overindulging in any sort of stimulants or depressants if that's what you're implying. I'm fine. I'm just a little tired."

That was not true, of course. He had been sleeping just fine, but he was not about to tell Harry that he had a dangerous, mis-brewed potion eating away at him.

Harry looked deeply sceptical at the answer and crossed his arms over his chest. "Somehow I think you're just taking my very true answer and making it your own. Now why don't you tell me why you look so sick?"

"Lack of sun. I've been living in very warm places for the past year, Potter. This rubbish weather of England has done me in for good. I'll die soon if the healers don't find a cure."

Despite his obvious reluctance to do so, Harry cracked a small smile. "I wonder if you know you're adorable," he said automatically, and blushed immediately. Draco looked away, his cheeks warming, his chest suddenly filled with confetti

"Oh," Draco let out in a breathless laugh, his cheeks reddening further. "Rubbish. Little girls are adorable." Yet the unexpected compliment made him feel warm all over. He bit his lip and looked at Harry from the corner of his eye. The blond blushed further when he noticed that Harry was his mirror image, his head bent to the side, face down, cheeks red, eyes looking demurely toward him.

"Oh for… you've been married, what? Your whole life already?" Pansy's voice snapped from the door. "Quit acting like you have only just discovered how utterly attracted you are to each other. We can go sit now!" Slamming the door, she disappeared again.

"Easy for her to say," Draco muttered, straightening his back and wishing his cheeks would cool. "She didn't just meet her husband a month ago."

Harry pulled him close by the shoulders and leaned close. "Just for scientific purposes…." And he kissed Draco. It lasted for several seconds, soft and unquestioning. It felt too short, yet too long, and when it was over, Draco fluttered his eyes slowly open, disoriented and yearning for more of that comfort.

"Where was the science in that?" he murmured.

"Not really a scientific purpose in there," Harry admitted bashfully. "I just thought earlier that… well, that we would seem closer if we had kissed. Or perhaps that was just me hoping to kiss you tonight. I think I'm feeling better for it."

Draco nodded absent-mindedly, his eyes fixed on Harry's red lips. "Have I ever told you that you're bloody amazing at that? Kissing, I mean. You're fantastic."

"No," Harry said, clearly embarrassed. "You've never said that actually."

"I should have. Because you are. I think that that is the only science happening in this room."

"That is absolutely the cheesiest thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth, Draco. But I'm obviously glad you think I'm so grand at kissing."

A slow smile spread Draco's face and soon the expression was mirrored on Harry's. "It _was_ cheesy. I don't know why I said it." They both laughed and Harry took his hand.

"Let's go. I don't know if they'll wait for us."

They entered the courtroom, sides pressed together and hands tightly clasped. Murmurs broke out and two cameras flashed at them. Draco winced not having known the press would be present. "Unified front," Harry murmured as they took their seats in the front row. "It looks better."

Draco, who had been staring at the chair in the centre of the room, tore his eyes away to look at Harry. "Feels better too," he whispered. Harry's eyes softened and he pulled Draco close around the shoulders. Draco grabbed Harry's other hand and clung to it tightly. Another flash went off.

"I won't argue with that logic," Harry whispered in his ear. "Besides, I like cuddling you far too much to let you go right now." He grinned from ear to ear and Draco chuckled.

At that moment, the door swung open and Severus swept through it, closely followed by Ministry wizards. Draco watched his old friend as he approached them and took the vacant seat beside the blond. Severus nodded at him and turned his attention to the Ministry wizards. One held a large vial of clear liquid and was administering it to various witches and wizards around the room.

When the wizards took their seats behind the head table, Harry leaned in to whisper in his ear. "The one giving the potion is named Roman Van Lith. He heads the Wizengamot nowadays. He's all right, I think. This should be a fair trial."

A minute later, Draco caught sight of an Auror at the door and then Narcissa appeared, magical bonds tying her hands in front of her. Another Auror followed behind and the two led her to the chair in the centre of the room. Draco swallowed. Narcissa looked just as pristine as always, though clearly not in her regular, immaculate robes. She had been given a normal black pair, but she made even those look almost elegant. Her eyes swept the room as she walked defiantly , not meeting Draco's intense gaze until she was seated, the chains coming up to hold her in place. She sneered when she noticed how closely he and Harry entwined and then looked away as if she could not bear to look. The trial was quickly called to order and one of the first wizards to give testimony was a mangy looking man who, after each question, asked rather nervously if he was going to be put away for selling the potion ingredients to Narcissa. The following wizards giving witness were those who knew of her actions before Draco had disappeared. Most were giving the same accounts merely from different perspectives. Both Harry and Draco were beginning to fidget with restlessness. Draco tiredly leaned his shoulder against Harry's and they looked at each other for a moment.

"No, wait!" yelled the man who was giving account for what he had done for Narcissa. Out of the lot, he was the only one who had a chance of being sent to prison for obtaining the one illegal ingredient for the potion. Draco knew him to have been a Death Eater in his day, his name was Shenkman, if memory served. The Wizengamot were about ready to dismiss him to the Aurors when Shenkman called out again. "I know somethin' else! Don't send me ter Azkaban! I'll tell yer what else I know abou' her!"

VanLith whispered with those around him and finally nodded. Shenkman bounced in his seat. "Murder!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper. "Nymphadora Tonks."

"Theodore Nott murdered Tonks," Harry interjected. "I should know. I was there. I've already given witness to that."

VanLith nodded in assent. "And Nott is dead. That case was closed after Mr. Potter was discovered alive in Nott's home."

"No!" Shenkman screamed as an Auror began to lift him from his seat. "Nott did kill Tonks, but Narcissa Malfoy was behind it all! She orchestrated it all. Taking her son's memory away isn't the worst of what she done! She came to me before Nott, but after the Dark Lord was killed, I changed my ways. I said that I wouldn't do it! She wanted both of them dead!" He pointed a shaky finger at Harry and Draco. "I can only guess she went to Nott after me to carry it out! Nott hated Malfoy after he defected from the Dark Lord. He hated faggots too. But it was a mistake to go to Nott, wasn't it Narcissa!" Shenkman turned to her and laughed, his eyes wild.

The room broke out into whispers and exclamations. Draco slowly looked at Harry, who was staring murderously at Narcissa. She seemed unresponsive to everything, her eyes fixed straight ahead and chin up high. VanLith began pounding his gavel on the table, shouting for quiet. Once everything was settled, VanLith looked around at the five men who claimed to have helped her. "Does anybody else know of this part of the story? Can anybody in here give witness to the truth in this?"

The entire room had gone quite still. Finally, Shenkman shouted out again. "It's the truth! She's the one who really wanted 'em dead! She said she would rather have her son dead than to be married to a half-blood, to Harry Potter, both of 'em filthy queers!"

Draco glared at the floor, rage building up inside him. His head was in a fog, his vision going dark. His hands were shaking worse than before, his breath coming quick and short. Without realising it, he shot up from his seat with a wordless roar and lunged forward, hands outstretched, reaching for his mother's neck. However, he never made it that far. Somebody grabbed him from behind, but he continued to thrash. He could feel that he was yelling, but did not know what he was saying. Then Harry's face filled his vision and warm hands pressed against each side of his face.

"Draco," Harry's soft voice reached his ears. "Draco, calm down. I'm here. Calm down."

The blond blinked twice, his vision returning. Harry stood between him and Narcissa, his face worried and lined with tiredness. His thumbs were swiping at Draco's cheeks. The person behind him let go and stepped away as Draco began to calm.

"We'll take a half hour break. Reconvene at four," VanLith shouted.

"Come on," Harry said softly, "let's get out of here."

Numbly, Draco let Harry lead him by the hand into the room down the hall where they had waited before the trial. Thankfully, it was quite empty and Draco slumped into the chair Pansy had sat in earlier. He rather hoped that Harry would not say anything. For a few minutes, he seemed to read Draco's thoughts, merely conjuring a comfortable chair and sitting across from the blond. "It upsets me just as much, Draco," Harry said at last. His voice seemed to come out hoarser as if he had not spoken for a few days. "I wanted to help you strangle her, honestly."

Draco shook his head helplessly. "I don't know what I was doing. I didn't know I was going to lose control like that."

"I know. I understand. However, we do need to keep our calm here, Draco. There are reporters and the Wizengamot. This is already so invasive into our lives. Let's not feed the fires. So… if you feel yourself getting angry again, just squeeze my hand or something. That's why I'm here, you know. I want to help you through this."

Draco nodded haltingly as the door slowly squeaked open. "Hungry?" a timid voice called through the opening. Both men turned to see Hermione sticking her head through. "I brought something from home." Draco jerked his head at Harry's questioning gaze and Harry nodded, allowing Hermione to enter. Behind her came Ron who held what looked to be a very heavy picnic basket. "It's nothing special," Hermione said lightly, taking out a small, white square. She unfolded it and tossed it away from her body. It inflated and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Draco startled and blinked at the table that had appeared.

"I've never seen such a thing," he murmured quietly.

"Fred and George," Ron offered as explanation as he plopped the basket on top of the newly erected table and Hermione conjured four chairs. "Don't know why anybody would need to carry a table around in their pocket though. Sells like mad though, doesn't it, Harry?"

Draco placidly turned to look at Harry who was nodding. "You know a lot about their shops then?" he asked.

Harry stood and offered him a hand up. "Yeah. I manage the Diagon Alley store. I only just went back almost two weeks ago."

The thought of relinquishing hold of Harry's hand was too difficult to process once Draco was on his feet, so he held on tightly. Besides, Harry did not seem to mind so much as they approached the table. When Harry tried to take his hand away to load a plate full of food, Draco squeezed tighter and grabbed the plate Hermione offered. Logically, he knew this would be a problem.

"Draco," Harry murmured, and Draco let the plate fall to the table. It bounced off the edge and fell to the ground and smashed to pieces.

"I don't want to believe it," Draco shook his head hard. "I don't want it to be true. I don't want to know that my mother would…."

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see the plate mending itself and setting itself back onto the table. Hermione then busied herself with serving large portions onto two plates. "I don't know what to say, Draco. I can't imagine that anybody would want this, but this is what's happening right now."

Harry began pulling him closer, but Draco tensed. "Please don't try to hug me, Harry. I mean… no offence to you or anything. I'm just tired of feeling like this and that just won't help."

"You're tired of feeling like what?" Harry asked, stepping away.

"Every time I'm near you, I just want you to touch me, to hug me, to do _something_ that involves touching me, and when you do it's never enough. I always want more and it leaves me feeling nauseous at the best of times."

Harry blinked rapidly. "I can give you more," he said breathlessly. "I want to. I'll never take my hands off of you if that makes you feel better."

"That's disgusting," Ron muttered before ripping off a chunk of chicken.

"Shut up, Weasley," Draco said distractedly. "That won't make anything better. It sounds good, but I don't understand why I feel like this, Harry. I'm not ready, and I don't want it right now. I need to know why I need so badly for you to touch me."

Ron snorted. "That's easy, really. You've been shagging since you were sixteen. You've been madly in love with him – even when he cheated on you with my brother – since probably you very first met him –"

"Thank you, Ron, you've been a great help today," Harry snapped.

Draco could not control the slash of jealousy and betrayal through his chest. "You cheated on me?"

"We had hardly been together for half a year, Draco," Harry sighed. "We were having problems. You didn't want to be alone with me. I was confused and hurt, and… for Merlin's sake, this isn't what's important right now. Draco, are you saying that you don't even want to be around me?"

"I feel it would be better if I were to be alone for a while after this. I need to get things in order. And Harry, I haven't bloody well forgotten that you lied to me. It might seem like it, but I haven't. It just flies away every time I'm around you and I forget to be mad because you always touch me and I have to try so hard not to think of ways to get you to touch me again."

"You know that's not fair, Draco!"

"Lying to me isn't fair! My mother lied to me for years and now I won't have you of all people lying to me, Harry!"

"I haven't been lying to you, Draco."

Draco scoffed. "Oh, that's rich. Been a little confused as to what my name is lately, then?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and led him to the furthest corner away from Ron and Hermione. "Do you remember your Auror training?" he asked, face very close to Draco's.

"Yes, of course."

"Then tell me, Draco, is secrecy on a mission of the utmost importance?"

The slight height difference was acutely discomforting to Draco suddenly and he stretched his back, attempting to reach Harry's height. "Are you an Auror, Potter? Were you on a mission?" Only now, Draco realised just how close their faces were. His heart began to pound and though Harry's breath smelled bitter, he still yearned to taste it.

"I stayed in San Juan because of you, Draco. Because of that, the Aurors used me as a device to get closer to you. They wanted you because of Narcissa, who might I remind you, is on trial here today for erasing your memory and keeping you away from your daughter. I wanted you back. I wanted to give you your life back, and I would have done anything to do it. _I didn't want to keep the truth from you_, Draco, but I had no choice. They would have thrown me in a cell for ruining their case, and I still had Ayida to think about. Draco, I've already said that I'm very sorry for lying to you, but I did all that I could by telling you so much about me. I've only wanted you to be happy."

Harry seemed to deflate and suddenly, Draco felt much too tall. He let out a long breath. He hated the little leprechauns who were dancing the waltz in his stomach and the confetti fluttering in his stomach. He did not know what it meant, did not _want_ to know what it meant just at the moment. All that seemed to be processing was the fact that Harry _really_ loved him. Of course, he had known that all along really. What was more was that all along, Draco had known that he had nothing to be angry at Harry about. Harry had had no choice. He may have been able to defy the Aurors, but it was likely he and Narcissa would be staring at each other from their respective cells in Azkaban tomorrow evening. Yet, it was so much easier to blame somebody who was close to the situation. It hurt so much less to blame Harry rather than his own mother.

Draco looked down and sighed. He wondered how many more times he would have to realise just how much Harry loved him before he could stop hurting Harry… and maybe love him in return. Harry had his arms in a tight hold. Though Draco had just admitted quite a lot to himself, he really did not want to acknowledge what the dancing leprechauns were trying to tell him. "You fancy me quite a bit then," he said quietly, and hated himself just a little bit when his voice shook.

Harry chuckled softly. "You daft prick," he murmured. Draco looked up and bit his lip. They were really too close again, but instead of moving away, he pressed their chests firmly together. "Actually," Harry smiled, his hands coming up to cup Draco's face. "You really are entirely fanciable -"

"I don't think that's a word," Draco broke in.

"Hush," Harry grinned. "However…" He became introspective. "I think the better way to explain this is that I'm really just stupidly in love with you."

Draco was positive that his heart had just burst to rain tonnes of confetti all over the leprechauns who began dancing a little faster and began kicking up all the fallen confetti, and really, he was quite dizzy from it. _Kiss him, _one of the little leprechauns screamed.

"Oh, I think he's already going to kiss me," Draco answered. Only when Harry chuckled did he realise that he had spoken aloud. But, it did not matter as Harry did, in fact, kiss him.

After a few moments, Draco tore himself away. "I still can't do this, Harry. As nice as you are, as what a good father you are, as… as much as you might love me, as how _bloody_ good looking you are, as considerate…. As everything that you are, I just cannot do this. I'm not ready. Everything that you said makes sense. It really does, but I still can't help but be a little mad at you. It's easier to be mad at you, and nothing is coming easy to me any more. I'm just… tired." He took a step away and sighed; the smell of chicken wafted past his nose. "And I'm hungry." Draco swallowed thickly. He hated these excuses, and he just was not mad. Not any more. He was too tired to be mad. Besides, Harry did not deserve his anger. Yet, here he was, offering some more.

Slowly, Harry nodded, his face tightly controlled. Draco had no idea what he was thinking, was not sure he wanted to know. He did not want to hurt Harry, yet he could not see a way around it. From what the little leprechauns were trying to tell him, he did care about Harry very much. However, Draco could not see them together as a married couple. There were visuals, like their wedding pictures, and Harry's obvious commitment to him. He wondered what had ever made them believe they were good together. They were so different from each other. He wondered what their marriage had been like, not the idealized version of their marriage that Harry was sure to tell him.

"Let's go eat then," said Harry quietly. "The trial will be sure to start again soon anyway."

It was a little past four when they were summoned to resume the trial. Ron and Hermione followed Harry and Draco in, who walked close together, yet did not touch. It seemed Harry had given up the pretence of being a close couple and Draco was much too nervous to attempt even brushing against him. Narcissa was already waiting in her chair and smiled mockingly at Harry. Draco felt his hand twitch to get around her neck, yet he restrained himself. Once they were all seated, both Harry and Draco were administered Veritaserum and VanLith called everybody back to order.

"New allegations have been made against the suspect prior to our break, yet no new evidence has been presented. Does anyone present have any new evidence supporting Shenkman's accusation?" VanLith waited a few moments and when nobody answered, consulted his papers. "We will make note of the allegation and question the accused later. Harry Potter, please stand!"

Draco glanced at him as he rose, but Harry did not look at him. His face was hard and his stance rigid. "State your full name for the record and relationship to Draco Malfoy," VanLith commanded.

"Harry James Potter-Malfoy. Draco is my husband."

"How long have you been married?"

"Since August 15th, 1998. Approximately seven years."

"Mr. Potter, would you say that before Mr. Malfoy disappeared that you were happy together?"

"Yes, we were. At the time we were planning on having children."

"You have a daughter together?"

"Yes. Ayida."

"Was there any indication that Mr. Malfoy may have not been happy with you?"

"No. He was always himself, affectionate and kind to me."

"Explain the last time you were with him."

Harry looked down to his feet, though it seemed to Draco that he was not trying to conjure the last memory of them together. He seemed to be gathering strength to tell it. Finally, Harry looked to Draco and held his eyes. "He was very distraught." He paused for a long time.

"Why, Mr. Potter?" prompted VanLith.

"Well, he thought I was dead, didn't he?"

VanLith shifted through his papers and whispered to those around him. Finally, he stared at Harry until Harry looked back up. "Mr. Potter, how could have Mr. Malfoy still thought you to be dead if you saw him?"

Draco looked up at Harry and heard him mutter something that sounded a bit like 'shit.' The blond scooted forward so that he could see Harry's profile. "He visited Nott's house," Harry continued with some difficulty. "I was in Nott's study when Draco came, but I was disguised and I couldn't speak my name or even tell Draco who I was. It sounded like Draco might have been planning on going on vacation or visiting Narcissa. I'm not sure. That was the same night Nott was killed."

"You killed him to escape." It was not a question, but a mere statement.

Harry swallowed but remained quite silent. VanLith raised a brow and looked at his colleagues. Obviously, they had not expected anything but a small agreement to the fact they already knew. In fact, Draco thought Harry looked a little constipated, as if he were trying to hold something in. "Mr. Potter?" VanLith questioned at his silence. "You killed Mr. Nott to escape so that you could get to Mr. Malfoy?"

"I called Sirius Black to tell them what had happened!" Harry finally burst out though it looked as though it had caused him a great deal of pain.

"That you needed help because you had just killed your captors?" Again, Harry kept stubbornly silent, his face now turning a deep shade of red. "Answer the question, Mr. Potter!"

Draco tugged on his arm. "Answer before you suffocate yourself, you prick."

Harry turned to look at the blond and he shouted. "NO! …No, I didn't kill them!" He immediately grabbed Draco's hand and squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Draco questioned.

"Then who, Mr. Potter, killed your captors?"

Harry continued to stare at Draco, his face screwed up horribly. "Answer them!" Draco hissed.

He hesitated only a second longer. "Draco did," he breathed. "Draco did it."

Draco lurched back in his seat. "_What_?" he yelled. "Are you absolutely, raving mental, Potter?"

"You wouldn't remember it, would you?" he shot back. "She," he pointed a shaking finger at Narcissa, "is apparently the one behind our attempted murders. What she did to us unhinged you, Draco! You became obsessed with finding the people who you thought had killed me. You killed two people that night and I took the blame because I knew you were grieving. I knew you were sick."

"Quiet!" roared VanLith. "We will decide on the appropriate action concerning Draco Malfoy at a later time. We need to continue."

For the next twenty minutes, VanLith continued to question Harry about how he had made sure that it was Draco's body before the funeral, how he had never truly believed that Draco would consider suicide and lastly, Draco's behaviour when they met again in San Juan, and the things that Draco said about his mother.

"One last question, Mr. Potter. Today, how do you feel about Mr. Malfoy?"

"I love him," Harry answered without hesitation.

"Draco Malfoy, please stand," VanLith requested once Harry had sat down. "State your full name and relationship to the accused and to Mr. Potter."

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. She is my mother and Harry is my friend… well, my husband, so I've been told."

"Isn't your full last name Malfoy-Potter?"

Draco blinked. "I suppose it must be. I seem to remember now Harry telling me that a few weeks ago."

VanLith nodded and continued his questioning. It seemed to go on forever in Draco's mind, and he found it somewhat tiresome to have to tell when he woke up with no memory, what Narcissa told him, where she made him go, what he had been doing, what he felt throughout it all, what began to happen to him emotionally and physically when Harry turned up. They also made him enumerate upon everything that he remembered about Harry, which at the time was nothing.

"Do you think, Mr. Malfoy, that you would have ever given consent to the erasure of your memory?"

"No, of course not! I'm not that weak, no matter how much pain I am in, I don't like to think that I would have just given up so easily."

"Today, Mr. Malfoy, do you believe you are in love with your husband?"

Draco baulked. "I don't understand what that has to do with the trial."

VanLith leaned forward in his seat, his dark eyes penetrating Draco's. "We want to be sure that this is causing distress, that you were not a willing participant. Believe me; I have a point in asking both you and Mr. Potter how you feel about each other. Now, would you say that you are in love with Mr. Potter at this moment?"

Swallowing thickly, Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry who stared expectantly up at him. There was no possible way for Draco to lie, yet he had no idea what his answer would be. He could feel the Veritaserum working through his veins, attempting to push an answer out, but his mind fought against it. The leprechauns had ceased dancing, a horrible twisting sensation replacing them. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco glanced up at VanLith, but immediately looked back to Harry who was beginning to look a little nauseous. "I don't know how to answer that," he finally said. A camera flashed in their direction.

"No pictures during the trial!" VanLith yelled.

Draco swallowed again and licked his lips. "I… I don't think I can say that I love him. But I'm not unmoved by him."

Harry looked like a lorry had just run over Ayida. Draco had to look away, his own throat clogging with cotton and his eyes beginning to glisten. "Does it bother you to know this?"

"Of course it does!" Draco screamed. His voice was hoarse and choked. "I don't want to hurt him, but look at him!" Harry was staring unseeingly at his feet, his posture fallen, broken. "Harry," Draco murmured and tried to place his hand on his head, but Harry batted it away. Behind them, Draco heard a soft laugh and he spun, his anger igniting again when he saw Narcissa's small smile. He moved quickly, before anybody realised what he was doing. And he slapped her across the face and wrapped his hands around her neck. "Is this what you wanted?" he snarled in her face. "You ruined my life!"

"Kill me, Draco," Narcissa whispered. "It's what you want. Kill your own mother!"

"Just like you wanted to kill your own son?" he whispered in her ear and strengthened his hold on her neck.

Then two men were pulling Draco off her and he realised then that pandemonium had broken free. VanLith was calling for order. Cameras were blazing, people were shouting for the Kiss to be administered to Narcissa. "Get him out of here!" VanLith shouted. "We've heard his testimony. Get him out!" The two guards dragged Draco kicking from the room. He wanted to stay. He wanted to hear the verdict. However, his pleas were ignored and the guards dragged him down a long hallway, past the room Draco had been occupying and further still. They turned a corner and Draco spotted a figure walking briskly ahead of them. The figure turned his head slightly and light from a torch caught his features.

"Harry!" Draco cried. "Harry, come back!" Harry quickened his pace. "No, Harry, please! I'm sorry!" The guards stopped by a door and quickly opened it. "I need you!" They pushed him inside. "Harry!" he called once more before they slammed the door in his face.

Light flared up as soon as the door was closed and slowly, he turned. It was a small, cosy room with a large fireplace with plush armchairs in front of it. There were torches lining the walls, and a desk completed the furnishings . He made a futile attempt at the doorknob, but it was locked. He looked for Floo powder on the mantle, but there was nothing to even hold it in. After standing still for sometime, Draco finally decided that he was locked up until they decided it was all right to let the raving lunatic free, and so, curled up in one of the chairs. An interminable amount of time passed. Occasionally, footsteps passed outside the door and he heard men grunt as if in acknowledgement. It felt like it was getting late, and Draco had almost started dozing off when the door clicked open and somebody entered.

The blond remained motionless, simply waiting until the visitor came into view. A man came into view from around Draco's chair, levitating a chair in front of him and sitting. Draco nodded. "Healer Walkowiak," he said quietly. "They called in the quack, did they?"

"That was some show you put on, Draco," Walkowiak answered calmly, crossing his legs.

"How would you know?"

"I was sitting three rows behind you, that's how. Would you like to tell me what was happening?"

"Would you like to tell me why you were at the trial?"

"It has everything to do with your case, Draco. Besides that, I was there to testify on your behalf."

"Testify?" Draco asked sharply. "What would you possibly have to say in my favour?"

Walkowiak sighed and shifted in his chair. "I have been examining and helping you since your return to England. That is what I have to offer them."

"That's confidential," said Draco tersely. "What right have you to tell them anything?"

"None, until the Ministry summons me for a hearing. Rest assured, the press were banned from the room whilst I gave my testimony. Nothing will be leaked through to the public."

"And what of Harry? Did he return for your testimony? Because I haven't told him I'm seeing a healer."

"You needn't worry, Draco. I haven't seen him since your testimony."

Draco sniffed and sunk further into his chair. "I can't see how that shouldn't make me worry. I admitted for the first time to a crowd of people that I don't love him and nobody has seen him since. Brilliant."

Walkowiak sighed nearly inaudibly. "Has anything significant happened tonight that you think I should know about? Why don't we talk about what you were yelling at Narcissa before the trial was put to recess?"

Draco looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you? I have no doubt that your words will be blazing on at least one headline tomorrow morning."

"Then you best tell me what I said," Draco replied irritably, "Because I haven't the faintest idea of what you're on about."

Walkowiak studied him for a few moments before connecting his hands in his lap. "I can't recall verbatim. I haven't that talent. However, the general idea of what you said is that you couldn't believe she would take Harry away from you. It was her fault that Harry was dead and that you had nothing to live for. You said you wanted to kill her for taking him away from you."

The healer faded with a slight cough and a long silence followed. After a few minutes, Draco began shaking his head. "I don't believe you," he whispered. "Why would I say something like that? I don't remember anything."

"Of course you do. I believe it's all there in your subconscious, waiting. It's rather unfortunate that you said something like that at a time like this. It certainly discredits your claim to amnesia, doesn't it?"

Draco snapped his head up to look at the other man for the first time in several minutes. "But I _don't_ remember anything, Walkowiak! Surely you told them that! I don't remember saying anything of the sort at the trial."

"I did tell them you have a severe case of amnesia and all my beliefs about it. However, they do want me to investigate your outburst and testify again. So Draco. Tell me what you have been doing since you left Harry's house. I know you haven't been to visit him like I suggested. Tell me why."

Sighing in resignation, Draco launched into why he had not taken the healer's advice and gone to visit Harry, his desperate orders to the house elves to keep his magic anchored to the manor, his even more desperate need to be with Harry once they had finally seen each other tonight. He also told of the despair as Harry had walked away and not turned back to Draco's cries. He told of the blanks in memory as he went into a rage at Narcissa and the despair in general at not having things the way they were supposed to be.

At the end of his speech, Walkowiak hummed in acknowledgement. "It is as I thought then. Draco, I told you to visit Harry for a reason. If you want things back to the way they should be, then take my advice. Spend more time with him, no matter how difficult you find it. Avoidance is not the answer. It will only make you sicker."

"Healer… please tell me you're nearer to finding the answer," Draco pleaded, deliberately ignoring how desperate he sounded.

"Professor Snape hopes he has passed a significant hurdle just this morning, but we won't be able to tell until tomorrow or the day after. Now, Draco is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No. Nothing. Thank you, Healer, for coming to speak with me."

"You're welcome. And Draco, please heed my advice. Spend time with Harry."

"I will. Good night."

Walkowiak nodded as he stood and quietly left the room. After a few moments, Draco stood and tried the knob. It was still locked. Still a prisoner then, he thought glumly. He sat back in his chair resigned for a long stay.

However, after a few moments, the door opened and closed again and footsteps sounded over the floor. Draco waited silently for the visitor to say something. After a moment, a shadow passed over his body and the blond looked up. "Hi," he breathed, his posture straightening.

Harry's eyes were soft and his entire demeanour quiet. He sat across from Draco where the healer had sat just minutes before, firmly clasping his hands in his lap. "Hey," he replied, attempting a small smile.

"I thought you had left."

"No," Harry shook his head. "Well, I did, but I meant to come back."

"You're angry with me," Draco supposed.

Again, Harry shook his head. "I'm not angry with you, Draco. I'm… upset, but not because of anything you did. Understand that it was nothing short of… of devastating for me to hear that you don't love me and –"

Immediately, Draco shot up from his seat in protest. "Didn't you hear me? I said I'm not unmoved by you."

"Well, yes, but –"

"Do you know what that means?" Draco demanded and he moved forward to pull Harry from the chair. He maintained his grasp on Harry's biceps. It seemed as though Harry was putting in a very large effort to remain limp in his hands, his eyes darting over Draco's face, his lip disappearing beneath his teeth. "It means, you daft prick… I can't believe you're making me explain this…. It means that I like making you laugh. I like listening to you laugh. I like… I like how you touch me, how you pretend you're going to touch me with your fingertips and I can almost feel it and then you kiss me, how you smell, especially how you smell, how you would do anything for me and… and for Ayida."

Sometime in his monologue, Harry had begun to relax, and Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief. He did not want to handle Harry being mad him. The blond delicately moved his hands down Harry's arms and around his waist, pulling him near. The turmoil that had been Draco's brain for the past few hours slowly started to wind down.

"I like your laugh, too," Harry finally murmured. "It's like you've done something wicked."

Draco smiled and traced patterns in the small of Harry's back. Tentatively, he tilted his head up and kissed the corner of Harry's mouth. "You keep me safe," Draco whispered, his grip around Harry's waist tightening.

_Harry's arms wrapped low around him. Draco pressed his face against Harry's neck and softly inhaled his scent. "Safe." The word was whispered and travelled around their heads as if on a cloud. Draco's head was spinning and he began to smile. It felt like their feet were moving to unknown music and Draco clung tighter yet. He laughed quietly and Harry joined in for just a moment. Draco's fingers were still moving against Harry's skin, and when they moved beneath the hem of his shirt, almost unknowingly, he couldn't conjure the energy to care. Harry's skin was warm and he liked feeling the downy hair on Harry's back. It felt so familiar. _

"_You move me," Draco said, his voice hardly above a whisper. It still felt like they were moving, dancing around the room, so Draco held his eyes tightly shut. _

The song that had been playing in Draco's head stopped and Harry was saying something, and it took just a moment to register. Slowly, Draco's eyes fluttered open.

"Draco."

The blond pulled away from his shoulder, suddenly realising that they had not been dancing. They had not moved at all. It was all in his head. Harry smiled at him; it was a sad smile and he swiped thumbs over Draco's cheeks, which he belatedly realised were wet.

"It felt like we were dancing," Draco said, knowing he sounded like a fool.

Strangely, Harry's smile faded and his eyes grew sad. He licked his lips. "I went to Diagon Alley."

"For what?" Draco pulled away, frowning slightly. His head felt foggy and he gently shook it in order to gain some perspective on what was actually happening. Had he remembered dancing with Harry on some level? Draco shook his head again, frustrated now at his confusion.

"To get you Cockroach Clusters."

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of clusters and pushed them into Draco's hand. "I…" Draco fumbled for words. "Why? Are they for me?"

"I just said they were, you git," Harry chuckled.

Draco shifted the bag between his fingers in bewilderment. "Thank you."

"Look, let's get out of here. I'll bring you back to the manor, or you can come and see Ayida. Whatever you want." "I…" Draco glanced around the room. "I thought they were keeping me here. And… and I thought you hated me."

"We already covered the latter. As for the former, they aren't keeping you here. They considered it, but I'm told that after your healer – which you must explain to me at some point in the near future – and Sirius, Ron, and Hermione testified they decided that you were unstable at the time and can't be held accountable."

"And the verdict?" Draco asked timidly.

"We'll wait for tomorrow," Harry squeezed the blonde's forearm. "They adjourned for the night and are keeping her testimony for tomorrow. I'm glad, because I want to hear it."

Draco nodded and averted his gaze. "I want to see Ayida before I go back to the manor."

Giving a sigh, as though in relief, Harry timidly kissed Draco's cheek. "I hoped you would say that. Let's go. She's at the Burrow."

Grasping at the thread of courage within his chest, Draco wove his fingers through Harry's as they left the room. Harry merely squeezed lightly in acknowledgement and they left quietly. "I don't want to hurt you, Harry," Draco murmured as they rode the lift to the Atrium. Draco stared at the door as the silence continued, finally glancing at the other man as the doors opened and they stepped out. "I don't want to hurt you, Harry," he repeated firmly.

"I know, Draco."

"But I have already."

"I didn't say that," Harry replied, resolutely leading them to one of the fireplaces.

"You don't have to. Harry, you can't expect everything to be the way it was before. I don't remember it, and I'm sure I'm a different person. Harry, stop." Draco yanked on his hand and turned him around. There was a line at each fireplace and Draco did not want to say anything within earshot of the nosy sods. Already they had gained the attention of a few people waiting to Floo home. "I'm sorry that it came out in public how I feel right now. It shouldn't have been that way."

"It couldn't be helped, and it's fine, Draco. Come on, let's get in line."

"No. It's not fine. I should have told you sooner. Harry, I meant what I said, and it's all I can give you now. I do feel something for you, and right now it scares me to death and I want to fight it. I want to fight it and push you away, but I can't. I know that. But you have to let me fight it for awhile, all right? This was something I never expected. It's as if I got drunk one night and got married on a whim to some stranger… only it was years ago and the stranger loves me and is raising my child." Draco laughed sourly. "Please, Harry. Don't hold this against me. I'm trying so hard."

Harry looked around the room, staring down the people who were gaping openly at them until they turned around, red faced. As he stared down an aged wizard in the line closest to them, Harry sighed. "I know you are. I realised when you gave your testimony that it's foolish of me to expect anything from you. Draco," he sighed again and looked at him. "In the end it all comes down to me just being glad, so _glad_ that you're here, you're _alive_. I want you to take as much time as you need. Even if it means that I have to hurt for the rest of my life…. I just want you to be happy."

"You wouldn't sacrifice your happiness for mine," Draco shook his head.

"I would. You don't understand. I have been so miserable thinking you're dead that it's alright if I'm alone as long as I know you're safe. Honestly. I would do anything to protect you even if it's from a distance."

"You're too noble for your own good, Potter."

Smiling, Harry kissed his cheek again. "It's not noble. You're my family, Draco, no matter what happens. You have me no matter what."

To that, Draco was speechless. He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Well," his voice shook, "speaking of family, we should get to our daughter."

_He knows_, Draco thought annoyed as Harry smiled winningly at him. _He knows how much that means to me. Not fair that he knows just how to play his trump cards on me, and I have no idea what works on him. _

As Harry took him by the hand once more to lead him to the lines, Draco scowled. "I'm not a Slytherin for nothing, Potter."

Harry turned back with a brow raised. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'll figure you out yet. Don't worry. On second thought… maybe you should worry." Draco smirked evilly. Somehow, he would find his own trump cards.

"You're nutters," Harry shook his head and pulled him along.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please review! I love reviews and they always keep me going!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** I know that it has been an incredibly long wait for this chapter and I apologize. Any of you who have stuck with me through this is an angel. :-) I have another chapter ready for posting which I hope to post in the next week or so. Unfortunately, I have had to reaquaint myself with this world over the past few weeks and so writing chapter 15 has been slow in coming. But it will be written and the direction I wanted to go is coming back to me with alarming speed. Thanks for the inspiring reviews and emails. Honestly. I don't think it this would have been posted now if I hadn't had so many heart-warming reviews lately. Thank you!

And of course, I'd like to thank my _brilliant_ and _patient _beta, Padfoots Bitch. I can't believe she's still with me!!

Enjoy! And please review!

* * *

**Lacuna  
**_Chapter Thirteen_

A whisper. A kiss on the forehead. Fingers gently tangling in his hair. 

"Wake up," Draco heard the whisper again and sighed in sleepy content. He turned on his side and snuggled deeper within his blanket. 

"Do that s'more," Draco murmured, pushing his head into the welcoming hand. The fingers gently massaged his scalp and brushed through his gnarled hair. He sighed again and felt sleep brushing his consciousness once more. He wanted so badly to succumb. 

A mouth pressed against his ear: "Don't you dare go back to sleep, Draco." A kiss on his cheek. "If you do sleep again, I'll stop touching your head."

"No!" Draco whined and turned his face up and against soft flannel. He rubbed his nose against it and after a moment of searching found an opening. _Skin_, he thought fuzzily and rubbed his cheek against that instead. 

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. You have been asleep for one hundred years." Draco whined again when the fingers retreated from his scalp and arms enveloped him, pulling him against a warm body. Draco fell compliant against the chest and sighed when he fell into a very comfortable position. "My God, you've never been so difficult to wake up. Draco. You have to wake up. Your mother's trial starts in less than an hour."

The information settled slowly within his mind and his eyes opened just as slowly. He titled his head up to see Harry looking down at him, and Draco felt his heart jump. Harry rubbed the small of his back and smiled. "Morning," Draco murmured. 

"Good morning, Draco. Are you ready to get up now because I need to go get dressed?"

"But I like cuddling." He winced inwardly. 

Harry's eyes softened. "I know. I was afraid I would never get out of here once you started purring."

"I was not purring!" Draco exclaimed, pushing himself away. 

"I had to disentangle you from me somehow, didn't I?" Harry smirked and moved off the bed. "Let's get going. Hermione has breakfast for us downstairs." He walked to the door and looked back as he turned the corner. "And you _were_ purring a little bit."

Draco threw a pillow at his back. 

Harry's laughter reverberated down the hall until he shut the door to his bedroom, and then Draco could still hear it through the wall. "Prat," he muttered and flopped onto his back. Why he had agreed to stay the night in the guest bedroom, he did not know now. He closed his eyes and immediately, he imagined Harry's face looking down at him, his smile kind and eyes shining. He admitted to himself that it had never felt so good to wake up. 

A loud knock on the wall made him snap his eyes open. "Get up you bloody tosser!" Harry called through the wall. "I know you're lying down again!"

Frowning, Draco rolled out of bed. 

The courtroom was called to order within minutes of the doors being opened. Narcissa was already strapped to the chair when the onlookers filed in as if she had spent the night there, yet she looked as made up as ever. Draco could not look at her without rage boiling up within him and he walked as close to Harry as he could without tripping both of them up in the process. He was just thankful that Harry was in the mood to humour him for a little while. 

"It doesn't show, does it?" Draco murmured in Harry's ear when they were seated. 

"What?" Harry whispered back, his eyes fixed on Narcissa. 

"That I'm… never mind," he broke off in a murmur and looked away. 

Harry turned to look at him with a kind and knowing eye. "Besides the fact that you're practically sitting in my lap, no, it doesn't show, Draco. You can be pretty good at hiding your emotions when you want, you know. You look rested and practically sitting on my lap could mean anything."

"Well… give me a kiss to show people what it means," Draco swallowed, eyes glancing furtively around. 

"_Is_ that what it means?" Harry cocked an eyebrow. 

"No! It bloody well means that I'm… well, _you know_…, now kiss me, you arse!"

"Only if you say please."

"I'm going to hex you," Draco narrowed his eyes. 

Harry grinned. And then kissed him. 

Court was called to order and Draco made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a mouse squeaking. Harry took his hand and squeezed reassuringly. Looking down at their hands, Draco's first thought was, _He's so good to me._ He then looked at Harry who was listening to Van Lith. _I want him. I'm going to marry him._

Draco blinked. And blinked again, still staring at Harry. "We're already married," he whispered in sudden, mild shock. Harry turned to him and studied Draco's face for a moment. 

"Yeah, we are," he answered. His thumb brushed reassuringly across the top of his hand. "Finally come around to it, have you?"

"I just… had a silly thought and it hit me," Draco whispered. "We're married, Harry. I… we're _married_."

"Yes. We are."

Draco shook his head to clear it. He suddenly felt horrid and dirty for only just letting the thought hit him now that they were married. "Well, I think I should tell you that I've committed adultery. Multiple times."

Harry raised a brow. "What's his name… Jude?"

Draco thought for a moment. He had almost forgotten about him and Stuart. He had left no word for them as to where he was. It had been nearly two months. He wondered briefly what, if anything, they had done once they realized he was gone. "Yeah," he replied faintly. "Jude. He's severely lacking something."

"What might that be?" Harry asked with a faint smile. 

Draco scanned Harry's face, his attention inevitably drawn to the peculiar scar on his forehead. He reached up and traced it lightly. "His face is lacking the proper décor."

Harry blinked and then his face slowly turned pink. "Oh. Th… that's –"

"That's not all," Draco interrupted. "His eyes don't look at me the right way."

"How…?" Harry trailed off, his face sufficiently suffused with a red hue. He cast his eyes down. 

"Look at me," Draco said softly. Swallowing, Harry looked at Draco. "Like that. He doesn't look at me like that. I just want to… if you don't feel like you have any hope, just remember that, Harry. That makes all the difference in the world, the way you look at me. It makes me remember that this is actually real."

"I'll remember," Harry murmured. 

The pair smiled faintly together before turning back to the trial. 

Van Lith had not started cross examining Narcissa yet. He seemed to be in the middle of restating some of the events from yesterday. "…Seemed imperative that we have Healer Walkowiak testify again on behalf of Mr. Malfoy after his outburst. Therefore, I call on Healer Walkowiak to give his testimony if he will consent."

Draco spun around in his seat upon hearing the healer clear his throat before opening his mouth to admit Veritaserum. He had completely forgotten that Walkowiak had mentioned having to testify again. "No!" Draco exclaimed, glancing at Harry. The healer looked to Draco, to Harry, and back again. He shook his head. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," Walkowiak said. 

"Harry, please," Draco turned on him. "Please don't listen to this. Please, I'm begging you."

"Why? What's this about?"

"It's something I would rather tell you for myself. Please, Harry."

"I want to know!"

Draco tugged on Harry's arm to try to get him to stand. They needed to get out of here for a few minutes. Harry pulled his arm free, glaring at Draco now. "If you haven't said something already, what should make me think that you ever will? I'm staying, Draco."

Van Lith either did not hear their argument or chose to ignore it. Either way, Draco let himself sink down in his seat and wish he were not witnessing this moment. "Healer, yesterday you informed this room that Mr. Draco Malfoy is suffering from a severe form of amnesia, which was caused by a supposedly incorrectly brewed memory altering potion. Correct?"

"Incorrectly brewed." Harry faintly parroted whilst the healer confirmed. 

"However, yesterday Mr. Malfoy had a peculiar reaction to his mother. What he said implied that he remembered the staging of Harry Potter's death. Is this not a little suspicious?"

"To the untrained eye, yes, I suppose it would be," Walkowiak replied. 

"I believe this court would like for you to reiterate and elaborate on what you said yesterday of Mr. Malfoy's condition."

"Certainly. The potion is called Alienare Penitus. The Aurors, as you all know, have given us substantial proof that the potion administered to Mr. Malfoy was incorrectly brewed. The potion still worked. It erased Mr. Malfoy's memory of the person, that is, Harry Potter, it was aimed for. However, since it was brewed incorrectly, it did not exactly have the full, desired effect. Because Mr. Malfoy's insistence on not forgetting his husband was so great, I don't believe the potion was able to blot out the memory of Mr. Potter completely. Mr. Potter is lying dormant somewhere beneath all of that, so it is my considered opinion that the court shouldn't dismiss amnesia as one of Mrs. Malfoy's crimes, because it certainly is apparent."

"If the memory of Mr. Potter is lying dormant, then what would elicit such a strange outburst, Healer? It still seems a little suspicious that he would be able to say that much if he actually couldn't remember."

"I covered yesterday that the potion manifested itself into a poison."

A dismayed gurgle of sound escaped Harry's throat and Draco cowered lower. Walkowiak glanced at the pair with regretful eyes, but continued. "This is a delicate thing and we are not sure we really understand what happened yet. What we do think is that in the years before we found Mr. Malfoy again, the poison was slowly working through him, and he was unknowingly fighting it. Mr. Malfoy was able to embrace the fact that there was something missing in his life. He just did not know what. After a while, I believe he became accustomed to the feeling so that when Mr. Potter came back into his life and Mr. Malfoy was informed of their relationship, it came as a shock both emotionally and physically. 

"Mr. Malfoy wanted to deny the relationship and so he did. In doing so, he actively aided the poison for the first time. He finally gave it that opening it had been looking for and he got sick. In my meetings with Mr. Malfoy, he has been reporting seizure-like episodes and I have no doubt that it is the potion at work, attempting to make him forget his past forever. Other symptoms, I believe, are random bursts of recollection as we all witnessed yesterday. It seemed as though Mr. Malfoy remembered something, and as I said, he does subconsciously. However, when I spoke to him afterwards, he had no memory of saying anything of the sort. He only remembers attacking his mother. If we can't find something that will counteract the effects, he will continue experiencing large chunks of his daily activities gone. If the potion succeeds wholly, it will kill him."

Draco expected some sort of explosion to occur. Instead, Harry sat stock still. From what Draco could see, he did not even blink. After a short silence in the courtroom, Van Lith moved some papers around and Harry cleared his throat. Silence it was then. Draco mentally braced himself for some sort of outburst later. There was no way he was getting out of this one free. 

"Unless somebody has any questions for you, Healer Walkowiak, you have fulfilled your duties to this courtroom. Thank you."

The healer nodded whilst glancing around the room, but nobody seemed to have anything to say. "Very well," Van Lith continued. "I believe we have heard from everybody now. We may move onto Narcissa Malfoy." A wizard advanced on her with the Veritaserum and she obligingly opened her mouth for it. She looked at Draco as she did so with a small gleam to her eyes. Not daring to break eye contact, Draco reached blindly for Harry's hand, who thankfully was fully obliging to him. 

"Please state your name for the record," Van Lith commanded. 

"Narcissa Malfoy."

Draco shivered at the sound of her voice ringing clearly throughout the room and clung tighter to Harry's hand. "We'll start from the beginning." Van Lith sighed and remained silent for a few moments as though collecting his thoughts. "Mrs. Malfoy, when your son married Mr. Harry Potter, how did you react to it?"

"Harry Potter killed my husband," Narcissa sneered. "How do you think I felt? I hated him. I hated my son for betraying me, for betraying Lucius."

"Did you have any plans of retribution at any time after they married?"

"Not at first. It had been a long time since I had seen Draco truly happy, and I decided to just let them live."

"Why?"

"Despite it all, I love my son. I thought I could live with Draco's decision to marry that filthy Potter."

"But you couldn't, could you?"

"No. I couldn't."

"What did you do then?"

"I contacted old acquaintances. I wanted to see Potter and my son suffer for what they had made of my life. I decided that the only way to make them suffer was to make them witness each other's death."

"How did you propose to do that, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I had my acquaintances abduct Nymphadora Tonks about a week before we were to follow through on it. We made her ingest a potion that would make her keep the shape she had morphed into even after death. We wore her down until she had no choice but to morph into a look-alike of Harry Potter. Then we abducted Potter and kept him at Theodore Nott's house. Nymphadora was brought to my son's home as Harry. She was to act normally until my acquaintances showed up."

"Please clarify who the acquaintances were, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Theodore Nott, Jimmy Stratham, and Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter was one of the accomplices?"

"Not willingly, I assure you," Narcissa smirked at Harry. "He was under a powerful sedative, one that kept him from reacting, but not so powerful that he was not aware of what was happening. You see, it was to be a double heartache for him. Under the cloak he was wearing, he was to watch as Draco watched him die, or rather as Tonks died. Then Potter was to watch them kill Draco. It was a perfect plan to make them both suffer before they died."

"But what happened next?"

"Potter's friends showed up to my understanding and ruined it. Nott and Stratham escaped with the real Potter and locked him back up."

"Harry," Draco whispered and leaned against him. Harry wrapped a comforting arm around him. "I don't know if I ever want to remember this."

"Your original plan was ruined, and the only person to have died was somebody I recall to be your niece, Nymphadora Tonks who had done nothing to deserve your wrath. What did you decide to do from that point?"

"I had believed Potter was killed once he was brought back to Nott's home. The thought greatly relieved me, especially when Draco came to me seeking comfort. It had been a long time since he had come to see me and it… warmed me. I decided that he had suffered enough and so I took him under my wing. He was to move back into the manor with me. However, when Potter resurfaced, I decided to change my plans slightly. I kept the papers from him and suggested a trip abroad. I knew the only way he would truly accept me again was if he forgot about Potter completely. Draco has always been so enamoured by him, even before they met, and Potter's death could only ruin him."

Harry squeezed Draco to him briefly and Draco was glad because it seemed to make his shaking body calm somewhat. Narcissa paused for long moments as she seemed to collect herself. Her words sounded like an automaton as was normal for people under Veritaserum, yet to Draco she still sounded as though she had planned out every word. 

"I decided on the Alienare Penitus because it could be tailored to such a specific thing or person. I acquired all of the ingredients and brewed it. I believe it was a close call because Draco had gone to his old home to pick up a few things. I had followed him and I am quite certain that Potter had been there earlier. The completion of the potion came none too soon. I administered it to Draco that same night along with the Draught of the Living Death." A slow smile curved her mouth. "He appeared to be dead just long enough to hold services and to trick my cousin, Sirius Black, Potter, and the healers to believe Draco was dead. Once the commotion was over, I smuggled Draco from Britain. He has believed since then that he is a criminal and has been on the run."

What happened next Draco could only guess. He felt like the only thing he was capable of was to sit and shake whilst Harry held him. As Narcissa finished the last of her story, Draco had come to a horrible realization. Well, it may not be so horrible, but terrifying at the very least. When Van Lith called out Narcissa's sentence (life in Azkaban with Dementor's Kiss), Draco hardly heard. He was attempting to memorize Harry's face as Harry stared triumphantly at Narcissa. 

"I need to speak to my mother," Draco said faintly as he finally realised that they were leading Narcissa from the room. 

"What?" Harry shook his head from an obvious daze to look at him. "Why?"

"I need to tell her something before she doesn't know anything at all."

Harry looked doubtful but stood up. "Well, let's go catch her then." Draco took his outstretched hand and they hurried after Narcissa. 

"Mum!" Draco called his footsteps at a jog. Harry followed closely. "Wait, let her stop! I need to say something!" The guards escorting Narcissa stopped, but only did so reluctantly. They eyed Draco and Harry in distrust. Draco stopped when he stood face to face with his mother and took a few deep, fortifying breaths. Narcissa looked impassively up at her son. 

"I'm sorry, mum. I'm sorry that Harry and I caused you so much pain, and I'm sorry you feel I betrayed you when father died. But I know that Harry was only trying to protect me, to save me. What this all comes down to is that you and father love me, but it only stretches so far. I've been an expendable resource, and… and because of that, I've never known what a real family is. That is until I met Harry again. I may not remember our life together before all of this, but he's shown me glimpses of what it was and what real family is like. Harry is the only family I have ever known. You've given it a good try to keep me from being happy, but you failed. If there is one thing I am proud of myself for, it's that I have triumphed over you and father. I just want you to know that I won't think of you ever again. You have failed and betrayed me, and I don't have time to remember you."

"Draco," Narcissa murmured, shackled hand stretching out. 

"I have a feeling you won't remember me either, very soon."

With that, Draco sidestepped her and the guards and went to Harry. He situated himself right into Harry's arms and placed his face in his neck. "Don't say anything right now, but know I meant it all. I realised that you really are my only family today. I want you to have hope, Harry, because I'm beginning to have some as well."

Harry nestled his nose into Draco's hair and was silent for a few minutes. However, Draco knew it was inevitable that he pull away with some sort of guarded look on his face. "Draco."

"No, Harry. Please don't bring that up. Just don't."

"Why did you keep it from me?"

"Please, Harry. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

"_Draco_!" Harry exploded. "You're bloody well _dying_ and you didn't fucking tell me! How can you tell me to have hope when _that's_ what I find out today?"

"I'm NOT dying!" Draco yelled. "Severus is working on an antidote and you know he's brilliant. He'll find one."

"That healer said you're dying, Draco. I'm inclined to take the word of a healer before yours. That's what all this secrecy has been about, the seizure at my house…. What about that bloke at the Leaky Cauldron? Why did he know about what I had said to you that night I thought you were sleeping?"

Sighing, Draco went to lean against the wall. "That was Cade Bertram. He's Healer Walkowiak's assistant, Harry, and we went out for a few drinks after a short, unscheduled session. That was the first time I had any sort of episode like that at your house and I was worried, so I went to see them. I had to tell them what you were saying so they could guess at why I had reacted so harshly."

"Why exactly do you see this healer?"

"He's trying to help me to open my mind to my memories. I see him three times a week for the sessions and they're… well, they're painful, but they're necessary. He's a brilliant wizard, Harry, and Severus thinks he will really help me."

"Okay," Harry muttered and began pacing in front of Draco. "Okay, let's just… let's go to my place and… and we'll talk a bit more, all right?" With Draco's nod, Harry grabbed his arm and led him to the atrium of the Ministry and from there, they travelled by Floo to Harry's. Draco settled on the couch in the living room and shortly thereafter, Harry disappeared for quite a few minutes. After a while, he came back with two glasses of water. He sat them down in front of Draco and resumed his pacing. Draco stared helplessly as Harry paced, hands clenched so tightly in his hair that his knuckles had turned white. Suddenly, Harry stopped and turned to stare at Draco, his face fearsome. "All right?" Draco ventured uncertainly. 

"Fine," Harry answered quietly but sternly as he quickly approached Draco. Draco gasped as Harry pulled him from the couch and gripped him tightly to his body. "I'm fine and I'm going to be great, because… because I'm not going to _fucking_ lose you again." Draco blinked at the ferocity in the other man's voice. "I can live with it if you don't want to be with me. I'll _make_ it work, because I'll have to and I just want you to be happy. But I… Draco…" Harry's eyes raced over Draco's face. Draco felt as though he could not breathe, their faces were so close and with Harry's words as sharp as they were. "Draco, I will _not_ make a life out of staring at your pictures and _wishing_ I could hear your voice one more time. I refuse to do that again. I refuse to have conversations about our daughter with your gravestone."

Draco steadfastly ignored his trembling knees. "I already told you, I'm not going to die from this. _I_ refuse to. I'm doing everything I can."

"I know," Harry murmured, his eyes roving more slowly over Draco's face now. "I need to do something though."

"You don't need –"

His protestation was cut off by Harry gently running his lips across Draco's cheek. Harry nibbled softly at the spot just below Draco's earlobe, and soothed it briefly with his tongue. Draco exhaled and clung to Harry's sides. "I just want to touch you right now. Sometimes, I… I still don't know if you're real or if I've finally gone mad."

Draco pressed his cheek against Harry's, content for the moment to listen to him breathe and to feel his day old scruff on his face. It reminded him briefly that Harry still looked worse for wear and that it was because of his words, his actions. Draco clung tighter yet. "I'm here," he murmured. 

"Draco, I can't… I need to do something to help. I just can't get used to you being around only to have you taken away again. I need to do something."

Pulling back, Draco lightly rubbed at Harry's facial hair. "I don't know that there is anything you _can_ do. Severus is working hard, and so are my healers. So am I."

"There must be something, Draco!"

"If you need to do something, just trust me. Trust that I'm doing everything I can."

"Draco," Harry said plaintively. 

"You need to shave, Harry."

"That's not going to help!" he burst out. 

"It'll make you feel better."

"Fucking _hell_, Draco!" Harry pushed away in a burst of motion. "That's the last bloody thing in the _world_ I'm thinking about that will make me –"

For lack of anything better to help, Draco seized Harry, holding his arms to his sides as they had begun to flail and held him as closely as possible. Draco had expected Harry to keep ranting, to keep doing something. However, Harry acquiesced to the touch and all but melted against Draco… and then he started shaking as if he had been standing in a block of ice. 

"_Draco_," Harry whispered. 

"I'm scared too. There's nothing wrong with being scared. But I _will_ be fine. We will be fine. All right?"

"Yes."

"Now I want you to go shave, and I'll get Ayida." Nodding, Harry started for the stairs. "Oh, and Harry? If you can't sleep again tonight, take a bloody potion to help. You look like hell and one of us needs to be in tip-top shape, right?"

"How did you know I haven't been sleeping?"

"I can tell, Harry. Now quit trying to play a bloody hero and go shave."

Draco waited until he heard water running before he went to the fireplace. As he threw the powder in, he heard Harry change his mind and turn on the shower. Smiling, Draco arrived at the Burrow. The smile was immediately wiped off his face, however, when he saw who was in the next room playing with his daughter. He had not spared one thought towards the other man in quite a while, but as he now looked at him, Draco realised what a fool he had been taken for. 

"Matthew."

Of course, Draco considered, Matthew had probably been working for the Ministry, and it was for the better, but…. He had known all along who Draco was and what he had been missing. The blond could not help but feel a little bitter at the thought. 

Matthew looked up from their game of marbles, and a look of apprehension immediately crossed his face. "Draco," he said by way of greeting. 

Draco nodded at him and greeted Ayida who was now wrapped around his legs. "Where's grandma?" he asked her. 

"Outside with grandpa. I think they're fightin' over the shed with the Muggle stuff again."

"Why don't you put on your cloak and hat and go break it up? But we'll be going home soon, so don't stay out too long."

"Okay!" Ayida bounced from the room, clearly pleased that she would get to break up grandma and grandpa's fight. 

"I was at the trial today," Matthew stated as Ayida disappeared. 

"Ah. So you understand the dire straights I'm in now."

"Yes, I suppose. It didn't look like you had told Harry."

"I hadn't," Draco replied matter of fact and sat down. "Things have been complicated. I haven't really had the chance to, and it wasn't really the way I had envisioned telling him all that."

"I don't imagine so. Well… how has Harry been anyway?"

"You haven't been to see him?"

"No. Well, I imagined that you two would be together at every waking moment and thought a clean break would be best for me anyway. It's been surprisingly easy to not think of Harry, but to not think of Ayida is a completely different story. She wasn't even a year old when I met her, you know."

"Yes, I know. However, one would think that if you think of Ayida, you would automatically think of Harry." Draco stared pointedly. 

"True enough. I never thought it would be easy getting over him, Draco. I can't delude myself any longer. He's in love with you and always has been."

Draco nodded and looked out the window where he could see Ayida chasing Arthur through the garden. "I've wondered, Matthew. How long were you broken up when Harry came to San Juan?"

"Cut right to the heart, right, Draco?" Matthew laughed sardonically. "Technically, I suppose, Harry thought we were still together when he came. He was pretty hacked off at me because he found out I wasn't out of town on Quidditch business. Then he saw you and it didn't quite matter anymore, as I knew would happen. You know when you came into the hotel room, I had only told him about you as you were waiting outside. He handled it pretty well considering."

"Well, he would like people to think he's made of tough stuff," Draco smiled faintly. "He's pretty lost without somebody to help him though."

"Just you, I think, Draco. He's lost without you."

Draco's smile faded and he looked to the floor. "I've begun to gather as much actually." Sighing, he attempted a smile again. "He's laid out some pretty large shoes to fill."

"Well, they're your shoes, remember. I think it won't be too hard to do."

Finally, Draco looked straight at Matthew again and gave a genuine smile. "You're good, Matthew. I'm sorry you got caught into this."

"It's my fault. And I wasn't good in this. I think I knew deep down that I could take advantage of Harry when I met him and decided that he was someone I'd like to be with. He was… well, he was very fragile, I think, and willing to go to anybody who showed him some kind of genuine interest."

"I suppose I haven't had much time to think on it, what with everything else, but I think that you probably kept him from a bad place, no matter your subconscious intentions…." He grinned. "No, really, I think you were good for him while I was away."

Matthew nodded slightly. "Thank you. You never answered my question though. How is he doing?"

"He's…" Draco thought of Harry with his unshaven face, bloodshot eyes with bags beneath, the pacing, the fear and frustration…. "He's been better, I think. But it's to be expected when he's suddenly dealt with the news that I could die if somebody doesn't find something soon, you know? He's already been to my funeral once." Draco sighed. "He's ready for a break-down, and I suppose I'll let him have it if he needs it, but I won't let him carry on for too long, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah –" Matthew broke off when they heard Ayida, Molly, and Arthur come back in the house. "But I trust you'll take good care of him."

"I can try. You know, you're welcome to come see Ayida any time you want. You both have spent so much time together that I can imagine how much she will miss you."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you. I had better go home. If you think it'll be alright, tell Harry I said hello."

"No problem."

"It was nice seeing you."

"Likewise."

Draco sat quietly as he heard the exchanges in the other room, collecting himself to take Ayida back to Harry. He knew instinctively that Harry will have pulled himself together already, but it was difficult to forget the shaken man he had held in his arms not quite a half hour ago. Taking a deep breath, Draco stood and went to the kitchen. 

"Come on, Ayida," he called. "Daddy is waiting to see you at home."

Ayida was in bed. Harry was sprawled on the couch and Draco reclined in the chair. The television was airing a show Harry seemed to enjoy; Draco disliked watching the telly, so he hid behind a book. The show became silent for a moment, so Draco lowered his book slightly to look at Harry. He had been doing so periodically since they had found themselves in this circumstance. Harry had seemed to almost catch him looking every time, but Draco contented himself that he was too quick to be caught. Harry was currently staring dispassionately at the programme until someone delivered the punch line and he started chuckling. 

Draco took a breath and hid his own smile behind his book, but kept his eyes riveted on Harry. The other shifted on the couch and briefly scratched himself before grabbing up the remote control and flipping off the television. Draco hurriedly put the book in front of his face. 

"You bored?" Harry asked. 

With a raised brow, Draco lowered the book again as if he had been interrupted from his rather interesting read. Harry was smirking at him. Draco realized he was caught. 

"Uh." Draco's face turned pink. "Not really."

"With the book, I mean?"

Draco cleared his throat. "It's sufficient."

"As sufficient as…" Harry squinted at the title. "_Parenting in the Modern Wizarding World_ could be, I presume. Where in the world did you pick up that rubbish?"

"It's called a bookshop. They sell books."

Rolling his eyes, Harry came to sit on the arm of his chair. "Thank you. But why that book, I mean? You do a fantastic job as it is without the help of some _professional_."

"I don't want to fuck her up."

"Draco. We can't be perfect. We're doing the best we can and I happen to think that you and I are doing a spectacular job."

"I haven't had enough time to fuck something up."

"Stop that," Harry said sharply. "She might hear you."

"See what I mean?" Draco retorted. 

"So you had a slip of the tongue!" Harry pushed his fingers into Draco's hair and turned his face up to meet his. "You need a different, more interesting book to read. I'll get you one. Let's go tomorrow."

"I have to meet my healer tomorrow."

"Then we'll go after." He began gently massaging Draco's scalp. Draco nearly swooned. He loved having his head rubbed. 

"That's what I've been meaning to tell you all day, Harry."

"What, that we're going to a bookshop after your appointment? Talk about foresight."

Harry grinned. For a moment, Draco became sidetracked and he kissed the grin on Harry's face. After a few very long moments, Draco pulled away, licking his lips. "I'm sorry. I, uh… Sometimes, I look at you and…" He indicated Harry, "and then I get all…." He waved his hand in front of his chest and let out a puff of air. Harry's smile was slow in coming and then he slid in the seat beside Draco so that they were squashed nearly uncomfortably into the chair. Only it wasn't so uncomfortable. 

"You know, that's how I feel when I look at you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It feels like I'm suffocating sometimes. I like it though."

When Draco remained silent, his face an endearing sort of red, Harry smiled at him again and gave his temple a lingering kiss. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Well, it's just that I don't really need for you to buy me a book at the moment. How long have I been back here? Two months?"

"Nearly," Harry murmured, continuing his delightful treatment to Draco's head. 

"Yes, well, I need to go back."

The hand stopped as Draco had thought that it might. "Go back?" Harry's voice was tightly controlled, wrung taut with tension just as his body tensed. "Go back where, exactly?"

"Please don't, Harry. I didn't say I was staying there. I just need to go back to San Juan and tie up loose ends. I have friends there you know, and they don't know who I really am. Looking up Kalen Mortimer is not going to give them any leads here in England."

"If they don't know who you are, they're not friends."

Sighing, Draco extracted himself from Harry and moved to the couch. "That's not exactly their fault, Harry. Nobody can blame them for not knowing my real name. It's not as though I put on a façade for them. I always acted like myself as well as I knew how to be."

"What about…" Harry waved his hand around. "What's his name… Jude?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco muttered. "Please, just stop, Harry. We're losing track of what needs to be done. The bottom line is, is that I need to go to San Juan pack my things, tie up loose ends with Stuart and the club, and _yes_, bloody hell, with Jude as well. It wouldn't be fair to him to leave him hanging no matter his disposition, and his role in my life and I'm sure the many times he slept around with other people. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm closing that part of my life and coming back here to try to pick up what I lost."

By the end, he was standing over Harry, his face now red for something other than embarrassment. Draco meaningfully stared at him, until Harry looked him in the eye, and then raised a brow. "Got it?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, suitably ashamed. "I'm sorry. It's just that every time I think of him, I want to destroy something."

Draco's chest should not have felt all warm inside with the admission. But it did. His stomach did a flip and he had to sit beside Harry again. 

"We… we both had lovers," Draco replied quietly. "In fact, I had a very civil conversation with Matthew today without once thinking about how much I would like to destroy something."

"That's easy. You know where you stand with me."

Nothing was more tiring than turning in circles, Draco was sure. That was precisely what they were doing. Of course, how could they not when Draco was truly confused and Harry just wanted a concrete answer? Throughout the day, it was increasingly clear that he wanted to be with Harry. It was entirely possible that there were residual feelings coming back. What with all the therapy he had been through, he did not think it possible that _something_ had not come back to him yet. Then again, it could just be that he was falling for Harry all over again without the help of his memories. How was he to tell the difference? Maybe it did not matter? 

Suddenly feeling too overwhelmed, Draco stood and staggered back from Harry. "I have to go."

"What? Why now?"

Draco felt something in him snap, stress, frustration, and anger… perhaps some of each. "Because… because I…." Draco shook his head and started for the door. 

"Draco!" Harry went after him. "What's the matter?"

"I just… I try giving you hope and I want it to be enough for you, Harry, but it never is. You just wait a little while and then pile on more guilt and this urgent rush for me to come to a decision, and I just _can't_! I don't know how to acquiesce to something I know nothing about."

"Draco, I don't understand…." Harry ran a hand through his hair in confusion, wrinkling his brow at the blond. "I don't understand where this is suddenly coming from. You were fine five minutes…." Draco turned and saw something snap behind Harry's eyes. At least they could do this together, he thought dismally. "Hell, why are you so resistant to us? If you feel something for me, what's the big deal? Say it! You act as if the world is going to crash down on you if you admit that you might like me a little bit. It's not! I'm sorry if I come on strong sometimes, but I can't help it. I. Love. You. But I'm not apologising for that, Draco. I'm not sorry for being in love with you."

"I'm not asking you to be!" Draco exclaimed angrily. This was irrational, Draco thought even as he kept speaking. He kept going and he didn't know if he really believed what he was saying or if it was something that he been bottled up for much too long. "What I'm asking is for you to be patient. If I admit to anything you expect a husband. I'm not mentally prepared for that. Please, Harry just let me go. I need to leave."

Face stony, Harry turned. "Fine. Leave."

"How many times do we have to go through this, Harry?" Draco yelled, patience worn thin at himself? At Harry? He was not sure anymore. Merlin, he just wanted some peace in his mind. 

"I said go. It's late anyway."

It felt as though he was seeing red. What a short-sighted piece of…. "I hope you know that you are a complete arse. All I need is for you to be supportive, even if you're not feeling it. I'm just trying to get better and you're not bloody helping right now. And you know what, Harry? If I am to die from this, no matter what anybody does to help, I hope you feel just a little bit guilty about it. The way I see it, you're not cutting me any slack here."

"Cutting you slack?" Harry spun around in a whirlwind of anger. "Have you ever thought about what it's like for _me_? I know this is difficult for you. You talk about me cutting you some slack, but what about _me_? When do I get some? I've been dealing with this for over four years, Draco. I just want…."

"You just want me. You want peace. I know. But you know what? I have been dealing with this for two months and with no memory of you to speak of. Talk about a little too much information? _Fuck_ you, Potter. If you want me, you have to fucking wait, because I don't want _you_ right now if you can't stop to think that I have a lot of things I don't know how to deal with right now."

Harry paused for a few moments, his face falling slightly. "But you do want me. I can see it." He pointed towards the living room. "You more or less _confessed_ how much you want me back there!"

"Not if you can't stop thinking about only yourself. If that's the first thing you think of to reply to, then that just goes to show what you're more concerned about. I think you need to put things in perspective. The bottom line is do you want me healthy or dead? If you want me healthy then you need to reconsider what you keep doing to me. Look, I'm not doing this anymore tonight. We could go in circles for the rest of our lives."

"Draco –"

"Good night, Potter."

Once outside the house, Draco stopped and took a breath. What was he doing? Why had he done that? Those things he had said…. He supposed they were true to a point, but, for Merlin's sake, they could have dealt with that in a much more peaceful way. 

Temporary insanity. That was it. Draco was now sure he was going insane. 

Letting out a deep breath, he walked down the path. He would give them both some time. He would go to San Juan and then afterwards… well, he would see what he could salvage. There had to be something after all. And the very fact that he wanted to salvage something with Harry… well, that gave Draco reason to hope everything would be okay. 

Blinding pain. That was the first thing of which he was aware. Then there was the sensation of a cold floor beneath his back. A voice guided him back to consciousness. Light streamed through his closed eyes. 

"Draco, open your eyes."

Swallowing repeatedly to rid his mouth of the cottony feeling, Draco peeled his eyes open to look up at Healer Walkowiak and his assistant, Cade Bertram looking down at him in wonder. "What the bloody hell happened?" Draco croaked. 

"We put you in a trance," Walkowiak replied distantly as he rapidly waved his wand over Draco's body. 

"I remember that!" Draco snapped and slowly sat up holding his pounding head. "I meant what happened after you put me in it?"

"Same as always," Cade replied with a brow furrowed. "Absolutely nothing… That is, until you passed out cold. Only, well, passing out is quite new."

"Is this bad?" Draco asked and summoned his glass of water. As he drank deeply from it the other two other men shared looks. 

"It could mean any number of things. Unfortunately, this is new territory for us as well. I've detected no signs that your body has deteriorated significantly since my last examination of you, but neither has it made any progress. For the time being, we will have to closely monitor you until we figure out what this episode might mean. In the meantime, Professor Snape says he has discovered what he thinks might be a step in the right direction, concerning his potion. I would like for you to try it the next time we meet."

"Not a problem," Draco sighed, setting his now empty glass down. "However, I do need to go back to San Juan for a while to tie up some old business there. That won't be a problem, I hope?"

"Not as long as you remember that you are to be here in three days."

"I'll be here."

"Do you feel okay at the moment? Are you experiencing dizziness, nausea? Anything?"

"Pounding headache," Draco murmured, standing. Cade reached out to steady him as he wobbled. "Maybe a little dizzy, but okay otherwise."

"Nothing out of the ordinary then after one of our sessions?"

Draco nodded silently and went to put his cloak on. "I'll be in contact if anything feels off."

It was a few hours later as Draco waited patiently for his portkey at the Wizarding Transportation Centre that he started to feel a little off. He was leaning against a large window, watching snow swirl around outside when a wave of dizziness washed over him as it had in the healer's office. Only this time, it was as if the floor was shaking beneath him and he could not keep his feet. The blond stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed. With his head between his knees, he kept his breath slow, deep, and even. It only seemed to make it worse, so he closed his eyes. 

Wisps of Harry's face swirled past his mind's eye and he groaned audibly. A little old witch sitting near him eyed him warily already quite upset by his display of seeming drunkenness. "Stop thinking about him," Draco whispered to himself. "Just for right now, please, Draco. Please." It was, of course, useless to tell himself this, as he had thought of little else since leaving Harry's house the previous night. But, stranger things had happened and he continued to hope that he would be able to get Harry off his mind. 

A wash of dizziness twice as bad as the previous dose came over him and he quickly lurched from the chair and stumbled over to where he knew the bathroom was situated. Just as he bent over a toilet, he vomited violently. It felt as though he was bringing up the contents of his stomach from the past five days; he continued dry heaving for some minutes before he was able to slump back against the wall and take a deep breath. 

"Fucking hell," he whispered and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Leaning his head against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to feel better. It was hard to believe, but this had only lessened the nausea and dizziness a little. Those wisps of Harry's face brushed past him again but before he could even groan this time, the face started to take a more definite shape and form a body. 

It really was, in fact, Harry. But Draco had not had a doubt. The difference in this Harry within his mind, however, was the age. This Harry was decidedly younger. _This_ Harry looked to be eleven or twelve years old and flying a Hogwarts broom. Draco was flying as well, he was sure. He could feel he was smirking at the other boy. 

"_Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!"_

"_Have it your way, then!" Draco retorted and threw a ball into the air. _

_Harry took off after it at once and Draco returned to the ground. The other students were looking up at Harry in awe and when Draco looked up, he saw why. He had managed to keep chase of the ball and at last… _he caught it 

"_Look at him!" Crabbe whispered. "I heard he's never ridden a broom."_

_Draco glared at Crabbe. "Of course he's ridden a broom, you imbecile. Nobody has that much _dumb luck

_Of course, Draco knew better. Potter had shown impeccable flying. However, as Potter returned to the ground, Draco felt himself scowling at the other boy. What a bloody show-off. He _hated _that Harry Potter and Draco would make sure Potter knew it. _

Presently, Draco blinked his eyes open, bewildered for a moment before it hit him. He gave a cry of astonishment before he clutched at the toilet again and continued dry heaving. 

Sometime, much later, Draco exited the bathroom, pale and exhausted. He had replayed what he was _sure_ was a lost memory in his mind over and over again cherishing and analysing every single detail. It was a tremendous relief to be able to remember this treasured nugget. Draco supposed that some small part of him still did not believe that Harry had ever been in his life. But now… now he could remember something. It was not pleasant in a way, but it was something. 

Draco sat in the same chair as before. The old lady had gone and thankfully, there was only an old wizard dozing in a chair a few rows away. Draco smiled to himself. No, the memory had its own sort of pleasantness to it now. It was able to show him what sort of role Harry played in his life as an adolescent and honestly, how utterly attracted Draco had been to him. Animosity or not, it was attraction all along. 

It was funny to think. Draco had wanted Harry even then. 

Finally, checking his watch, Draco decided it was time to leave this particular waiting room and went to retrieve his portkey. He had a lot of work to do before he returned to London, after all. The sooner he did it, the sooner he could come home and hopefully make it well with Harry once more. It was just a glitch. They would make it through this. They had to because of Ayida. They had to because Draco was sure Harry's emotional well-being depended upon it. They had to because… because Draco cared about Harry. 

With a jolting shock, Draco realised that he wanted nothing more than to work out everything with Harry. It was as though he had been somehow disconnected from what he had been feeling. Yes, he knew there were feelings. Yes, he knew Harry wanted his husband back. Yes, there was a child whom he loved very much. Yes, Harry was… Harry. Draco blinked. The bottom line was, Harry, in Draco's very humble opinion, was nothing short of… of amazing. Everything Draco now stood for and wanted in his life. He thought of Harry at home with Ayida, probably angry at Draco and hurting. Something within Draco gave a violent twist at the thought that he had hurt Harry, but then again, he was not sure what hurt more, Harry assuming what Draco was and was not ready for, or that Draco hurt Harry again. 

As the blond stood before the witch handing him his portkey, another horrible realisation flooded over him. He felt so stupid. Of course. There could be nothing else for it. At that moment, he knew he had to stop fighting it. Taking the portkey in hand, Draco breathlessly looked up unwittingly into the witch's eyes. "I love him," he murmured just as the portkey activated and he was whisked from England. 

And just like that he had labelled it. Draco found there had never been anything that had come as easy to him as admitting that he loved Harry Potter. 

Just as expected, everybody welcomed Draco back with relieved and buoyant greetings. Stuart was speechless with relief. For the last month, he had had magical law enforcement attempting to track down Draco, obviously to no avail. Narcissa had made sure he changed his name each time he made a move, so there was no record of Kalen Mortimer before San Juan. 

Instead of taking his time packing his flat, Draco found himself throwing things together haphazardly and making short trips to the few people he considered friends. The visit with Stuart had not gone over as well as he had hoped. The club had not ailed in any way since Draco's sudden departure, as Stuart did, in fact, know how to handle the books (though it was news to Draco), but Stuart was very, very unhappy that Draco was going back to England without any sort of notice. Most of the conversation with Stuart had been business. The other man still did not know Draco's real name. He would save that conversation for when Jude came back into town. 

This was why Draco suddenly found that he had been in San Juan for nearly a week. He had briefly returned for his appointment, but not wishing to be waylaid if he admitted to the nausea (which had reoccurred since the first), he tactfully left that out with the promise to himself that he would tell Severus as soon as he returned to England. 

By the end of the week, Draco was getting restless. His flat was nearly packed with only a few more shelves of books and his bed needing to be put away. There had been no word from Harry, and if that was a cause for alarm, Draco was not sure. He felt a certain amount of anxiety with the thought that Harry was so angry that he would retract all feelings for Draco. 

Then again, insecurity came with the territory of finding oneself in love, Draco supposed. And that… that was a weird thought. The thought of being in love with Harry made him feel queasy at best, and found him throwing up his meals at worst. In fact, he was sure that only one meal had made it all the way through his system since the revelation at the Wizarding Transportation Centre. 

As far as memory was concerned, there had only been wisps of singular images. In one of those fragmented memories, Draco was sure he was looking through a window at Hagrid's hut on Hogwarts grounds. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been in the hut, and along with Harry's look of alarm at him through the window, Draco could not really discern anything else of the memory. 

It was the day before Jude had planned to show his face in San Juan again, and Draco occupied himself with carefully stowing the last of his many books in a box. He chose to do so wandlessly as he had nothing else he would like to do. Ideally, he would admit to Stuart and Jude his true identity today and leave. He wanted to see Harry and their daughter again…. 

The clicking of the elevator to his flat brought Draco's attention away from his books and he pulled his wand from his pocket. He could not recall anybody knowing the password to his flat. The door finally opened and Draco stood to see over the chair that had blocked his view. Jude stepped out with a half-smirk on his face and Draco lowered his wand. 

"Jude," he greeted politely, suddenly very aware of how much he had been never truly attracted to him. 

"Kalen," Jude nodded, and inwardly, Draco cringed at the name. "I didn't know if I should believe Stuart you were back. I thought for sure you were dead somewhere only you knew where." He said this very unconcernedly. 

"Nice of you to care," Draco scoffed and headed for the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No. Thank you. Where have you been?" Jude followed him. 

"I was going to tell you and Stuart everything tomorrow when I thought you were coming back to town."

"Yes, well, call me immensely curious, but when my boyfriend disappears for two months, I can't quite seem to contain myself when he reappears." 

Draco turned from the counter, forgetting his pumpkin juice and leaned against the edge. Jude took the opportunity to rake his eyes up and down his body. "You've lost weight and I think you haven't been working out."

"Stress can contribute to weight loss. You wouldn't believe how much I've had on my mind," Draco sniffed. "Working out has become the least of my worries."

"It's too bad. You were rather built." He leered at Draco. 

"I haven't lost that much muscle mass," Draco retorted, suddenly feeling quite defensive of his body. "By the way, please don't call me your boyfriend."

Jude raised a brow and approached him. "Oh, really? I'm sure I could change your mind fairly quickly."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Jude placed his hands on Draco's hips and pulled him near. 

"You know nothing."

"I know quite a bit about you. I know you can come without being touched as long as my tongue is inside you."

"Get away from me," Draco breathed through his nose. "Knowing what I like in sex doesn't constitute knowing me."

"Ah, I see," Jude grinned, but still pulled Draco flush against his body. "You've found somebody new, haven't you?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I wouldn't call him new, but yes, I found somebody else."

Rapidly studying Draco's face, Jude continued to smile. "It's that one guy who was here before… Harry Potter? Isn't it?"

"So what if it is?"

"Do you love him, Kalen?"

"I don't think that's any of your business," Draco replied tightly. 

"Sore spot, I see."

Draco turned away from him and grasped his glass of juice. Jude did not seem happy with his action, however, and spun him around. "You're not quite sure how you feel about him, are you? But he is sure? I bet he doesn't fuck you like I do though. I bet you think of me all the time." Jude lightly rubbed Draco's crotch. He recoiled, but Jude held him tight. 

"Get the fuck off me," Draco growled. 

Instead of letting go, Jude leaned in and kissed him harshly. He snapped Draco's wrists to the edge of the counter, in the process, smashing the glass of juice, and locked his legs securely around Draco's so that he could not move. Draco struggled, but Jude had always been stronger and taller. 

Before the situation could progress further, Jude suddenly flew away from Draco, and for a moment, he believed he had performed wandless magic. However, after blinking the astonishment away, Draco saw that Jude was pinned to the opposite wall by Harry. The blonde's stomach did a weird sort of flip and continued doing so until Harry drew his fist back and punched Jude squarely in the nose. Blood immediately gushed out and Draco let out a short exclamation. He stood immobile for a few moments, unable to stop Harry from hitting Jude. Jude struggled to fight back, but it seemed as though Harry had used magic to keep him secure. 

"…. Don't deserve to breathe the same air, you… you arrogant berk!"

Draco snapped out of his shock with these words and instantly had to hold back a snort. He hurried forward and pulled Harry off Jude. "Harry, please," Draco said quietly. 

"No!" Harry yelled. His anger was so great, he was shaking horribly and his face was flushed deep red. "He doesn't know a bloody thing about you. How can he even presume to do that?"

"Fuck," Jude moaned and stumbled from the wall holding his head. "I was just trying to get his goat."

"Well, you fucking got it," Harry snarled. "Get the hell out of here!"

"Harry," Draco shook his head. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm not letting somebody like him touch you," Harry said fiercely. "Especially not like that."

Draco blanched at the hidden meaning behind those words and backed away from Harry. He supposed it would take a little time to grow accustomed to how much Harry knew about him still. Sliding with his back against the wall, Jude pushed himself up with a smirk. "No, I already know your precious husband, Draco is off limits."

Draco blinked at Jude for a few seconds before he could react. "_What_?" Draco practically yelled. 

With a shit-eating grin, Jude wiped at his bleeding nose. "I travel to England quite a bit for business… _Draco_. I read newspapers."

"How long have you known?"

"I really would rather not say," he shrugged nonchalantly, but Draco set his jaw firmly. There was something Jude was not telling him. Draco advanced menacingly. 

"When. Did. You. Find. Out."

Jude made a great show of studying Draco as if he was contemplating not telling him. Draco knew the truth was coming. Jude was too much of an arse to not be enjoying every second. "About a month after I met you."

Without thinking, without realising he was even moving, Draco punched Jude squarely in his already broken nose. Jude let out some creative expletives and clutched his dripping nose. "I don't even want to hear the rest of it," Draco said lowly. "As far as I'm concerned, you're just as horrible as my mother, and you can get the fuck out of my life. Now."

Both Harry and Draco were silent as Jude left the flat. It seemed they were both contemplating what Jude's early knowledge could have done for them, if only Jude had never been such an insufferable prick. Finally, Harry took a deep breath and gently touched Draco's elbow. "All right?"

"As ever," Draco murmured, his heart suddenly hammering loudly against his chest now that he could properly process the fact that Harry had come to see him. And was now touching him. "You?" he managed after a few moments. He felt as foolish as a schoolboy. 

"Sure. I'm sorry about the dramatic entrance, but when I saw him pinning you like that I just… flipped out."

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough. I, uh… actually followed him in under my invisibility cloak. I hadn't planned on it, mind. When I saw him and realised who it was, I put it on and followed."

A small smile flittered across Draco's face for a moment and he shook his head. He was still acutely aware of Harry's hand resting on his arm. "You should have been a detective."

"How do you know I'm not?"

For a few moments, Harry's face was serious but then he smiled and his hand trailed down to Draco's hand, squeezed it briefly and then stepped away. Draco admitted to himself that he felt the loss just as acutely as he felt the touch. "I'm sorry. I didn't come to interrupt your business. It was just that we left each other on such a bad note and I couldn't stand it for another day. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Yes, of course. We'll have to make ourselves comfortable on boxes, I'm afraid."

"That's okay," Harry smiled again and went to sit down on one. Draco shortly followed with a glass of pumpkin juice for each of them. "I've thought a lot about what you said," Harry continued once he had taken a small drink. "You're right. I know I need to be patient. I don't know how you feel about me. I do think it's clear you have some sort of feelings for me, but I'm not asking you to clarify. Maybe I can see how it might be really difficult to process having a husband and child, and I just want you to know that whatever you need, I'll be more than happy to acquiesce. Draco, I'm not here to make you feel uncomfortable. I'll make whatever you decide in the end work. I never meant to make you feel overwhelmed, and I'm sorry."

A bit bewildered, Draco blinked at Harry. "You thought about what I said then?"

"How could I not?" Harry shook his head. "I've been accepting and then pushy, and it's not fair."

"But…" Draco continued to blink and looked away. "What about what's fair to you? I don't think we're being fair to each other. I've thought about it a lot as well, you know. I haven't been the most accepting about what you may be going through right now."

Harry nodded briefly. "Yes, well, I'm not the one who can't remember you. You need time and we both know it."

"Well, I agree, of course, but, Harry –"

"Please don't make this any more complicated than it needs to be, Draco," Harry sighed as he stood. Stopping for a few moments, Harry's chest seemed to deflate and he smiled faintly, a hand reaching out to brush against Draco's fingers. "We both need for you to get better. More importantly, that's what Ayida needs."

Draco was not listening any longer. Sparks seemed to fly through his fingers and up his arm. The blond blinked, or at least he thought he did, because when he opened them again, Harry was staring at him strangely, but inside Draco's head, his mind was spinning and a younger, much more vulnerable looking Harry Potter was sitting on a desk eating chicken. Draco sat with him and he was feeling a certain thrill at having been able to do this, to have an excuse to help out Harry Potter. 

"Are you okay?" Harry inquired, reaching out as if to brush hair away from Draco's forehead. With a slight grimace, he pulled it back. "You're sweating."

Draco's stomach was roiling now and he gulped a breath in hope the nausea would pass. "I'm fine," he whispered, but he could feel his body get clammy. "I just… I need to use the loo."

Without waiting for a response, Draco turned on his heel and ran for the bathroom. He fell to his knees and hung over the toilet dry heaving for a few moments before the inevitable. Faintly, Draco felt his hair getting pulled back. He did not think it possible for such a simple touch to make him ache so horribly, but it felt so nice to be taken care of. When he was finished, Harry flushed the toilet, aimed a cleansing spell at Draco's mouth and magically tied his hair back. Draco fell to his bum in complete exhaustion. Harry sat there with him in silence for a few minutes, his hand merely resting on Draco's knee. 

"Is it the flu? Bad food? Or the potion?"

There was just a moment where Draco considered lying to protect Harry, but then he looked up and caught green eyes staring at him intently. He just could not lie to Harry about this. He loved Harry. His willingness to live with him as husband was still questionable at this point in time, but he loved Harry. 

"It's the potion," Draco said through a dry mouth. "It's been making me sick since I left."

"Then you need to come back?"

"That's not exactly it. I seem only to get sick when I… when I remember something. About you." Harry's breath seemed to leave him in a whoosh, but Draco continued before he could forget. "I think my body is trying to purge the poison by itself. But it won't, not without Severus' help and the healer's."

"You're remembering," Harry's voice was a croak. He cleared it. 

"Very little, but yes."

"What is it? That you're remembering I mean."

"You, of course. I remember that I hated you." Draco smiled and placed his hand over Harry's. "I remember when you were taken by McGonagall after a flying lesson. I hated you so much." Harry was nodding, his eyes unnaturally bright. 

"What did you just remember?"

"We were sitting on a desk together. You were eating chicken and you seemed quite vulnerable. It seemed rather friendly and I… well, I was glad I could be there, though I think I may or may not have been acting very put upon by somebody."

"Yes," Harry murmured. "I think that must have been our very first friendly encounter in sixth year."

"I haven't really remembered much of consequence yet," Draco continued. "But I'm determined to."

Nodding, Harry replied, "Are you feeling better?"

"I think my spell is over, yes."

"Truth, Draco? I need to get back to Ayida and I don't want to go if you're lying."

"No, really, Harry, I'll be fine. Just help me to my feet…. I can be a little shaky for a while afterwards."

Harry readily complied and when they were both standing, they stood holding hands. Draco smiled first. "Thank you for holding my hair." Harry shrugged in embarrassment. It was too much to resist, Draco moved forward, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and pressing his cheek beneath his ear. "I promise that you can go," he murmured. "And I'll be home soon enough."

It was easy to tell that Harry wanted so much more when he pulled away. The level of self-control the other man was putting forth was absolutely remarkable, Draco thought. "We'll be waiting," Harry replied and slowly left the room, only looking back as he rounded the corner and out the bathroom door. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Draco sat on the edge of the bathtub with a shaky sigh, and lowered his forehead into his hands. 

"I will remember you, _all_ of you, Harry," he whispered to himself. "I _will_."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** If there are any formatting problems, I blame FanFiction. For some reason it wouldn't let me post the way I wanted until I converted the chapter to HTML and then to a .doc. Urgh. Thanks for the patience and thanks for sticking through this with me.

Obviously by now this is completely AU and if you hadn't realized that, then I don't know what you've been doing when you've been reading this. Good job.

Thanks to my beta PadfootsBitch, who is lovely and wonderful. Thank you to everybody who has reviewed. You are also lovely and wonderful and I eat up every word you give me. Thank you! Read on!

* * *

**Lacuna  
Chapter Fourteen**  
:.:.:.:.:

Just two days later, Draco could be found tramping the grounds at Hogwarts. It was a grey, depressing sort of day. The young man had his hood pulled over his stunning blond hair to protect against the drizzle and wind. The rain was slowly melting the accumulation of snow and Draco was grateful for it. He was not necessarily a fan of snow, especially having just returned from a sunny climate. Rain, he liked. Not when he was forced to walk outside in it, but when he could be near a roaring fire with a cup of hot tea and maybe a biscuit or two to satisfy him. Watching rain from a comfortable position was something else altogether.

Yes, he smiled to himself as he ascended the front steps of the castle. Sitting near a fire… maybe with Harry as they listened to the rain… now that would be more agreeable than this at the moment. However, Harry did not know Draco had returned. Harry also did not know that Draco was falling more and more in love with him by the second. It was a remarkable feat, really, when Draco had not even been in the other man's company very much in the past week. Remarkable, but true. Even if Draco had wanted to fight it, there was no help for it any longer.

With thoughts of Harry still drifting through his mind, Draco finally arrived at Snape's office with a peculiar smile. "I would suggest a Knut for your thoughts, but I am not sure I want to know," Snape spared him a glance upon Draco's entrance, but went back to rearranging a shelf of particularly nasty items in jars.

Draco whisked off his cloak and hung it on the back of a spindly chair. "Really?" Draco continued to smile. "You don't want to know how much I've remembered? Or how much I'm completely smitten –"

"I assure you," Snape interrupted without turning, "that I am perfectly content not knowing the latter. The former, however, is of much interest to me." With a final adjustment and a swipe at some dust, Snape turned to gift Draco with a penetrating stare. "Just how much have you remembered?"

Draco grinned up at Snape. "You know I'm just pissing around, Severus. As to your question, I have remembered a little. It is reassuring, I admit, to know I am able to remember more of my past, but I could deal without the nausea."

"How much is a little?" Snape asked, turning from Draco once more to rummage in his personal storage cabinet.

"I've remembered… I don't know, perhaps four memories. Maybe less, I'm not sure. These memories seem more numerous when I try hard to remember them. I think I just need to acclimate to the memories and allow them to make sense within my current understanding of my world. If that makes sense."

"You need to put them in a time frame, in a way," Snape said absently as he moved to another shelf.

"Yes, I suppose."

"I didn't tell you why I wanted you to come…. _Ah_." Snape pulled a vial of murky purple liquid from the cabinet and handed it to Draco. "I hid this – even from myself, apparently – because I have had a certain Defense teacher in my stores for reasons I do not want to know…." Snape rolled his eyes heavenward.

Draco took the proffered bottle and examined it for a moment. "And you allow him to?"

"I allow faculty into my stores if Madam Pomfrey cannot offer them what they need. It is not often that they do, however. My own private collection is in my chambers. Surely I've shared that with you?"

The blond nodded absently, turning the vial over his hands. "Yes, but it's been a while."

At that moment, a knock sounded on the door and when Draco turned around and saw who it was, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. "Well, well, speaking of the imbecile," Snape drawled.

Sirius Black bowed slightly to Snape. "Funny, I think my shampoo would say something along the same lines were it to see you." Black looked to Draco with a much kinder smile. "Draco," he greeted amiably. "I've been hoping to see you for quite some time now." He reached out a hand which Draco shook agreeably enough. He remembered Sirius Black as his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in his last two years at Hogwarts, but beyond that could not imagine why he would be so pleased to see him.

"Have you?" Draco responded with a quirk to his brow.

Black tilted his head to the side with a slight smile. "Do you remember my relation to Harry?"

For a moment, Draco merely stared blankly, but then he remembered the picture Harry had of this man and Remus Lupin at his house. He had never thought to ask about it until now. "I… well, I know there is a picture of you and Remus Lupin at Harry's, but, I'm afraid I can't recall why you would be so close to him. I'm sorry."

"Black is the… extravagant godfather to your Mr. Potter," Snape cut in sardonically.

Draco cut his attention between the two other men and shifted uncomfortably. They each glared daggers at one another. Draco cleared his throat. "Well, now I know what it's like to be in a room with the two of you at the same time. Pleasant. Well, Mr. Black, it's nice to meet… _see_ you again."

"Please, call me Sirius," Black tore his gaze from Snape. "I thought it might be you coming to the castle. I saw you braving the weather out there."

"Yes, I was thinking on my way here that it would be much nicer sitting by a fire with Harry and a hot cup of tea."

For some reason, this statement made Black grin and he pulled back the chair Draco had flung his cloak over and sat. This action, naturally, made Snape scowl, but he made no comment. "I was just visiting Harry and Ayida yesterday, and it's funny that you should say that. You were in San Juan still, I presume?" Instead of waiting for an answer, he continued. "You see, yesterday's weather was the same as today and when Ayida went off to play in her play room, Harry said much the same thing to me as you just did."

Inexplicably, Draco felt his cheeks tint a shade pinker. "Oh, really?" he laughed shortly, hoping he did not appear as embarrassed as he felt. He did not know why he had felt the need to admit such a foolish thing. Snape was staring at him with a beady eye stare. Draco shifted. "Well, great minds… and all that," he trailed off and looked to the floor.

Black let out a bark-like laugh. "You two are a pair, you know? Look, Draco, I happen to know that Harry is home today. Molly was taking Ayida to Diagon Alley with Ron and Hermione's sprog. I don't think Harry would say no to a little company over his tea."

Draco gave a stilted nod. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Snape chose then to give an annoyed sigh. "If you don't mind, Black, I have business to discuss with young Mr. Malfoy here." He raised a brow and nodded towards the door. "I assume I don't have to show you the way out?"

There was no question that Black _did_ mind leaving. He narrowed his eyes at Snape as he stood and then proceeded to glare at the potion in Draco's hand. Clearly, he came to hear about Draco's condition. Draco sighed. "Really, Severus, if this has to do with my… condition, then I don't mind if he stays. Does it?"

"Does it have to do with your condition?" Snape confirmed. "Yes, it does. Black has no business hearing what the latest news is."

"Severus, I really don't care. Chances are he'll hear through the grapevine anyway. I'll tell Harry, Harry will tell those closest to him."

"Oh, Draco, that really wasn't my intention. I'd be lying to say I wasn't curious what Snape's come up with, but I don't want to intrude."

Draco forced a friendly smile. "It's fine… Sirius. Really, it's fine. Besides, I thought of something yesterday that I might like to have again, but I need help finding it. Since you're close with Harry, I have a feeling you would have an inkling as to where to start looking."

Black nodded. "Of course, I'll help you."

"Touching," Snape drawled. "Since you insist on letting him stay for this, Draco, _I_ must insist on hurrying through the explanation." Here he threw Black a hostile glare. "The potion you hold in your hand is what I have been working on these past months. I have doubt it will be fully effective, but I am confident it will not hurt you."

"Do I drink it all then?" Draco inquired as he uncorked the bottle.

"Yes."

Draco downed the entirety and felt his mouth curl in distaste. "Ugh, that's awful. What does it do?"

"With any luck it will neutralize the toxicity in your blood. You wrote me a short letter the other day describing the nausea when you remember…. I had suspected you might experience something of the sort. If this works, you will no longer feel nauseated, and the threat to your life will be void. Give me your arm; I need a blood sample."

Mechanically, Draco held out his arm and looked away, straight at Black who was gnawing at his lower lip. Walkowiak took his blood every time they met in case something had changed, but Draco hated the sight of his blood leaving his body, and so needed to look away. "Finished," Snape murmured and pulled down Draco's sleeve. When Draco looked again, his blood was in a clear tube and Snape was waving his wand over it. Colourful tendrils of smoke were floating up into the air and finally a poof of blue smoke nearly obscured Snape's face from view. When it cleared, Snape was practically smiling.

"It wasn't 100 per cent, but it reduced the toxicity by 40. I suspect I need less lotuses and more Eriocaulon." He stared at Draco for a moment, but did not really seem to be looking at him. "Yes. Give me a week and I'll have a new formula ready for you. In the meantime, I think the potion helped you considerably. The nausea should subside somewhat."

"Thank you," Draco smiled. "Severus, I know you'll object, but I really would like to offer you some sort of recompense."

"I require nothing, Draco, you know that."

"I know, but, Severus…"

"But nothing, Draco. We will not have this conversation again, understand?"

"Fine."

Honestly, it was not fine. Draco wanted nothing more than to sulk at the moment. "Very well," Draco finally acquiesced after a few silent moments. "Sirius," he said more brightly as he turned to the other man. "Would you walk with me?"

Sirius nodded affably and exited ahead of Draco. "Please come to me a week from today, Draco. I will notify the healer of this."

Nodding, Draco gave an appreciative smile and followed Sirius. The other man waited outside the door for him and they walked side-by-side in silence until they reached the stairs. Sirius cleared his throat. "You needed my help, you say?"

"Yes. It's uh… not a very pressing matter, but important just the same." Draco halted his progress up the steps to press a hand into his pocket. Sirius stopped a couple steps above him and looked down. "You see," Draco continued, "when I returned, Severus was kind enough to return this to me." From within the pocket, he pulled his ring. It sat in the palm of his hand, glowing contentedly. A smile glanced across Draco's face as he looked at it, but he straightened it out as he looked up at Sirius. "I can't help but notice that Harry doesn't have his –"

"Yes," Sirius nodded, brow furrowed. "It was… misplaced somewhere along the way."

"I figured as much. The thing is I would feel a lot better if we were to attempt to look for it."

"It's a small object, keep in mind, Draco. There's no guarantee that we'll ever come across it."

"I'm determined to be at ease with myself, Sirius. That ring will help me come to terms with… everything."

"I understand, of course."

"There is one thing I would like to know. Are you aware if Harry ever tried looking for it?"

Footsteps approached the two men from below and Sirius paused before answering. Draco closed his fist around the ring and turned to see a Ravenclaw girl, possibly in fifth year, approaching the stairs. She had long, dark hair and was twisting it around her fingers with one hand while the other supported her bag on her shoulder. With a look of alarm, she noticed Sirius and Draco and stopped for just a moment. Then she smiled at Sirius and favoured Draco with a wary glance. "Professor Black," she nodded as she ascended the stairs.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rose. Visiting your brother in Slytherin, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. You know he's been having a dreadfully horrid time in that house all year. He thought for sure he would be in Ravenclaw with me. He's absolutely frightened of all of those Slytherins."

Draco felt the corner of his mouth curl up in amusement. "He was sorted into Slytherin for a reason," he said. "He'll find his way and niche soon enough."

The girl shot him another wary look, though this one was laced with suspicion. "I don't understand how. Bradley is terribly sweet and wouldn't hurt a fly, yet that hat sorted him into _Slytherin_ of all houses!"

"Ambition doesn't equate evil, Miss Rose. Your brother must be intelligent, and he must show great ambition and cunning. Given the right direction, your brother will turn out to be an upstanding member of Wizarding society. Next time you see him, please inform him that a Slytherin is all bite and no venom, never deadly, and never, above all, willing to be restrained from biting."

Miss Rose blinked up at him. "You think that will help him? You're mad."

Draco smirked. "I'm a Slytherin. And yes, I do believe it will help him. I once said that to a good friend on his first night as a Slytherin. I believe it helped him."

Blinking some more, the young student tilted her head and stared at his face. "Do you mind if I ask your name? Only because you look very familiar to me."

"Draco Malfoy," he nodded slightly with a small smile.

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Everybody knows who you are. You and Harry Potter are all everybody talks about these days!"

Draco raised a brow at Sirius before looking back at her. "Flattered."

"I have to go tell him what you said! It'll definitely help if he knows _who_ said it! Thank you! It was nice meeting you, Mr. Malfoy!" She turned back down the stairs. "Oh!" She turned back around. "See you in class tomorrow Professor Black!"

"Remember your essay!" he called.

"I finished it last week!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"That's a form of ambition!" Draco called as she rounded the corner and out of sight.

There was no answer, just her rapid footfalls against the stone. Sirius cleared his throat. "So… you asked if Harry ever looked for the ring. Not to my knowledge –"

Climbing the steps between them, Draco took Sirius by the shoulder and led him up the remaining stairs. "Come on, before my following catches me up."

Chuckling, Sirius hurried his steps. "Anyway, I don't believe he thought of the ring all that much. Ayida was new and you were gone. He had a lot on his mind."

"That's understandable. Do you have any clue as to where we might start?"

"I only have one," Sirius shook his head. "To search there I will have to gain Ministry clearance because they seized that house when they discovered Harry there."

They had arrived at the doors; Draco stopped just in front of them. "Do you think you could help me?"

"I already said I would."

"It would be a tremendous help, Sirius, you have no idea."

"I'm happy to do what I can. Merlin only knows how much I hate to be idle."

Draco smiled and pulled up the hood to his cloak. "It means a lot, really. So, we'll be in touch?"

"You won't stay for dinner? I stopped by the kitchens after lunch and smelled some really fantastic stuff for dinner."

"No, thank you," the blond shook his head. "I think I'll go visit Harry, have a cup of tea, maybe sit by the fire…." He winked as he opened the door and stepped through.

Though it was in a completely different part of the country, the weather at Harry's house was very similar as it was in Scotland. The only difference, Draco noted dismally as he walked up the front walk, was that it was pouring here. He was thoroughly soaked as he knocked on the door, attempting to get as close as he could so that the gutter covered his head.

The door opened a minute later revealing Harry in a pair of sweatpants and an ill-fitted burgundy T-shirt. Ill-fitted, Draco thought, because it hugged every dip and curve of his chest and arms. Draco stoically decided to concentrate on Harry's face.

"We're the topic of choice amongst fifteen year old Hogwarts girls, did you know? I actually feared for my life as I narrowly escaped a hoard of girls and boys alike just now."

Harry continued to stand there with his hand on the door and a fond look in his eyes. Only when Draco sniffed did he react. He blinked. "Come in. You're soaked through. You'll be sick and whining before we both know it." He grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him into the house. "Why didn't you think to put a protective spell on so you wouldn't kill yourself with pneumonia?"

As Harry slowly peeled the layers of clothing from Draco, Draco stood shivering and smiling. "I was thinking something along the lines of a fire, a hot cup of tea, and you."

Harry paused. "Oh really? You say you've been to Hogwarts? Been speaking to Sirius Black at all?"

"Why would you ask that?" Draco inquired innocently when Harry had removed every bit of clothing except his boxers. "It's cold and wet, and you're warm and dry. It seems logical, yes?"

For a moment, it seemed as though Harry was going to pursue this line of conversation. Instead, he dropped his eyes from Draco's and cleared his throat. His cheeks were an interesting shade of pink, however, and Draco felt his heart skipping in his throat. "Entirely logical, yes," Harry said quietly. "I'll take care of your clothes then. Go make yourself comfortable. I'll bring something down for you to wear."

"Why don't you just put a drying spell on them now that they're off me?" Draco asked while pulling the waist of his boxers away from his body and doing just so to his boxers. He let the band snap back to his body with a sigh of relief.

"'S'not the same," Harry shrugged and disappeared further into the house, wet clothes bundled in his arms.

Shrugging to himself, Draco followed behind, taking the opportunity to discover Harry's arse once more. The sweatpants he wore were grey and riding low on his hips, and Draco was glad to see that they were not too baggy. Draco smiled to himself. Harry's arse filled the sweatpants out nicely, leaving just enough undiscovered for Draco's imagination to run wild. Yet… Draco tilted his head to the side and stopped when Harry dropped a sock. It seemed there was a good chance Harry was… _commando_.

"Bugger," Harry muttered under his breath and bent down to pick the sock up. Draco's eyes widened as Harry's shirt shifted up on his torso and the sweatpants went down showing not much but… _just enough_.

Draco swallowed, hard.

Harry stood, and the shirt stayed up. The pants slid back up, but only partway. The seat of his sweatpants were stuck…. This sight in front of Draco flustered him so; he let out a strangled, "Oh, God."

Harry was definitely commando.

Apparently, Draco thought to himself, he was hotter for nothing more than a commando Harry Potter in sweatpants and an ill-fitted T-shirt.

At his strangled exclamation, Harry turned. "Something wrong, Draco?"

It was an effort to drag his eyes up to Harry's face. It really was. "Wha'? Um…" The blond cleared his throat. "Oh, nothing. It's just… oh, God, I'm so cold. Um… so, is Ayida around?"

Harry, the annoying wanker, had a knowing look in his eyes as he smirked, _smirked_ at Draco and shifted the bundle of wet clothes. "She's with Molly at Diagon Alley today. I'll be right back with something… _warm_."

Feeling particularly foolish, Draco slumped onto the couch in front of the fire. It was just embers now but his wand was in his pocket with Harry, so he waited. Some minutes later, Harry returned with a pair of black silk pyjamas and some thick, dark green socks. "I put on some tea," Harry commented, handing the pyjamas and Draco's wand to him.

"Thanks," Draco murmured and immediately set the fire to roaring. Standing once more to put the pyjamas on, Draco attempted to ignore Harry's piercing gaze. "These are nice," the blond commented as he pulled the top over his head. "No offence, but I never thought you would have such good taste."

"I don't," Harry smiled and pulled Draco back onto the couch. "They're yours. You left a few pieces of your clothing at our old place when you left, but I don't think you had meant to leave those. They were your favourite pair... when you actually wore pyjamas."

Draco smiled as he stuffed his feet into the comfortable socks. "Then it's true. I _do_ have impeccable taste."

Smiling along with him, Harry shifted slightly. He seemed hesitant to Draco. "So," he began after a few minutes of merely looking at the fire. "How are you feeling? Better?"

"Right now, yes," Draco looked at him. "I only get nauseous when I remember something."

"Right," Harry nodded. "And all your business is finished in San Juan?" Draco nodded. "You don't need a place for your things, do you?"

"No," Draco murmured, a laugh rising from his belly, but he contained his composure. "The manor," he said simply.

A blush rose immediately. "Of course. I forgot." From the kitchen, the teapot began whistling. Harry jumped from his seat. "Tea. Stay here, I'll get it."

It seemed like an extraordinarily long time before Harry came back from the kitchen. By then, his blush had receded, but as soon as they made eye contact, it rose again from under his ill-fitting shirt to his hairline. Draco made no comment on it for the moment and sipped his tea instead. He was extremely pleased to note that Harry had made Darjeeling, his favourite, and had added just the right amount of milk to it. "Perfect," he hummed and sipped more. At this, Harry blushed even harder. Draco cocked an eyebrow.

When his cup was empty, Draco set it aside and turned to face Harry who was still drinking. Harry avoided eye contact. "Can I ask you something that may put you on the spot?" Harry cleared his throat, drank some more tea and nodded with the cup in front of his face as if it offered him protection. "Why are you blushing? I have been trying to think it through, but I'm… well, I'm at a loss."

"You don't want to know," Harry murmured as he gently set down his cup, which was now as empty as Draco's. Harry seemed to be quite distraught with that fact and looked to the kitchen longingly.

"I would not have asked if I didn't," Draco replied reassuringly, placing his hand gently on Harry's knee. "I promise I won't laugh."

"It's not that. It's just that it would sound trite probably, and I suppose I'm attempting some sort of restraint concerning you so that you don't get frightened off by me again. It's rather an awful feeling when that happens, I think, so I've decided to stop doing it entirely."

Draco could not help but chuckle a little. He immediately sobered when Harry blushed again. "I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't laugh. I won't be frightened off. Please just tell me what it is that keeps making you blush. I'm curious."

For a long time, Harry stared anywhere but at Draco and seemed quite insistent on not saying anything at all. After a couple minutes, when Draco still refused to back off and refused to quit staring at Harry, Harry gave a put-upon sigh and turned to him. His face was flushed anew. "It would be because of you, don't you think it obvious?"

"What? Your blushing? Because of me? I had gathered it was," Draco replied with a slight smile. "Isn't there something more perhaps, something I could put a stop to so you don't feel so embarra –"

"No, it's just because of you. I'm blushing because of who you are, of what you do, and how you make me feel, and how much I just want to kiss you. I had thought that I had the upper hand here when you couldn't drag your eyes away from my bum, but I was wrong. The thought that you were so attracted to me… filled me and made me lose the upper hand I was hoping to maintain, and…. So, you see there is nothing you can do because you can't help how I feel. I'm blushing just because of you. That's all."

Draco licked his lips feeling as though he were in a trance. He had leaned closer to Harry without his realising it and when he spoke, his voice was oddly quiet. "Well, you can hardly fault me for being me, can you?"

Harry seemed to just notice how close Draco had moved; his voice quaked as he replied "I had no intention."

"You know," Draco continued, his voice even quieter, almost reverent to their ears, "I want nothing more than to remember everything about you. Everything… absolutely every…." He trailed off. Harry's hand had come across Draco's torso and to his hip to rest possessively. They had gravitated nearer so that the tips of their noses touched lightly, but their mouths remained a good distance. Draco could feel and smell the slightly sweet scent of Harry's breath upon his face. It puffed against his lips and he wanted Harry to lean closer. They moved their heads slightly to the side as if to begin, and Harry's lips pressed nearer, and Draco's breath caught. _Yes, please! _he thought vaguely, but then Harry pulled abruptly away and Draco was suddenly keenly aware of his racing heart.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered his voice cracking. "I'm sorry."

"_No,_" Draco protested fiercely and pulled Harry's face towards his own. He stared fiercely into the confused green eyes for a moment before kissing him with more force than he would have liked. Harry quickly capitulated and the kiss softened but became no less fierce. For the next couple minutes, Draco lost himself to Harry's mouth, his tongue, and his strong hands. When they finally needed to come up for a little air, Draco was surprised to find himself straddling Harry's lap and with his hands tangled in the black mop of hair. Reluctantly, he removed his hands and placed them on Harry's biceps.

"I appreciate your restraint," Draco murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of Harry's mouth. "But you will need to forgive me. As a child, I was never denied anything I wanted and it has taken a toll on my adult life. I only take what I want when I want it." He smiled to indicate he was making a joke but Harry only managed a weak smile. "Truly, I do appreciate your restraint, Harry."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I had so much restraint to be perfectly honest."

"I consider myself rather surprised as well," Draco replied, deliberately holding back a smile. "You seem to be the reckless sort. Though you are a Gryffindor, so I suppose I cannot fault you for that."

"No," Harry gave a weak chuckle, his hands coming to Draco's sides but then falling again to the cushions. "You can't."

Harry seemed to revert to his earlier shyness, his eyes fixed unseeingly just above Draco's belly button. It was incredibly intoxicating to Draco that it was he who elicited the response. He studied Harry's face, his strong jaw, the stubble that lined it; the slight worry lines around his eyes… perfect eyes… the line of his nose and the way it rounded out…. Draco reached up with the tip of his finger and traced first the top of Harry's nose and then his jaw line. He did not notice the look on Harry's face or the way his breathing had gone quietly laboured. All Draco could notice were the seemingly perfect lines of this other man's face, and how he could not remember a time he had studied it more carefully. And how Draco wanted this face… this face needed to greet him every morning. He wanted that again, because deep down he could feel how much he missed and needed it. Deep down, Draco suddenly knew without doubt how in love with Harry he had always been. This thought scared him just a little, but it calmed him to know Harry felt the same.

Oh, how he wanted that ring back, how he wanted to set things right, to put Harry at ease.

"I… I don't know where I stand with you any longer," Harry stammered. "You contradict everything you've said. You tell me to leave you space, so I try, but then you throw yourself at me. I don't… I can't."

"Harry," Draco murmured, reaching up to run his fingers through Harry's hair. "You don't know how much you have helped me simply by showing restraint the past couple times we've met. I know it doesn't seem like much to you, but I think it has been a great help. Where do you stand? I'll tell you, I believe it's right where you have always stood since the day we married."

Harry blinked up at him, his brows furrowing as he worked Draco's words through. Draco smiled. "Put your arms around me, Harry." It seemed Harry only replied with his body, not his brain. It seemed to be otherwise engaged as Draco settled himself more comfortably on his lap, his own arms going around Harry, his face resting gently against his neck. After quite some time, Draco placed a light kiss to Harry's neck and leaned away with a small sigh and even smaller smile. "It seems I'm having a difficult time restraining myself right now," he murmured.

"From what?" Harry inquired, hands pulling Draco's body nearer yet, though how that was possible Draco could not imagine.

"Touching you," Draco replied even as he reached up and pushed the hair away from Harry's face.

"Yes, well…." Harry shifted his eyes away, almost demurely and Draco smiled at that. It was obvious that Harry did not mind Draco's lack of restraint so much. "Are you hungry? I could start dinner. Ayida should be home soon."

"I'm suddenly famished, but I'll only allow you to make something if I can help, otherwise we're ordering out."

Harry's eyes lit up and his smile went straight through Draco's chest to make his heart constrict. With a slightly giddy laugh, Draco stood, offering Harry a hand up. Together, they retreated to the kitchen where they made dinner in silent companionship. They moved about the kitchen seamlessly as if they had done this a million times before, and Draco had to remind himself that they probably had done this at least a thousand times before. Inside, Draco was brimming with butterflies. Harry's face was pure bliss and Draco could not help but to brush by him with the tips of his fingers against his side, the back of his hand, the small of his back. After the initial surprised intake of breaths and glowing blushes, Harry caught on that it was okay and did the same to Draco.

As it turned out, Ayida was not returned to them in time for dinner. When Draco noticed that they were setting the table for two, he suggested they crack open the bottle of wine he had noticed while making dinner. The bottle had a thick layer of dust and Draco assumed it was to be for a special occasion. It took a moment for Harry to realise which bottle Draco was referring to, but when he did remember, his face lit up and he raced to the kitchen. While he was away, Draco took a moment and lit a few candles on the table. To him, this gesture did not seem overly romantic, but he knew that Muggles thought so and Harry used Muggle electricity for his lighting…. He dimmed the overhead lights and smiled at the effect. It really was rather nice. He quickly put a CD into Harry's stereo in the next room and hurried back just as Harry was entering the dining room. Harry stopped in his tracks and stared around before turning to Draco. His face was full of wonder, but then he blushed and went to his seat.

"I had bought this bottle not long before… well, before you left all those years ago," Harry said. Draco sat at the seat next to him. "It's a Cote de Bourg, and I had thought it would be nice to have a night to ourselves at some point soon." He grinned, somewhat ironically. "If I had known we wouldn't get a night to ourselves until over four years later… well, perhaps I would have taken it as an omen and wouldn't have bought it."

"Well, we're here now," Draco murmured and picked up his empty glass. "Open it now so we can enjoy it tonight… in our pyjamas."

Harry complied with a grin. They dished their meal of chicken onto their plates and ate in relative silence. When they did speak, the conversation was short lived, but Draco did not mind, nor did he think did Harry. When at last they had eaten their fill and their glasses were once again full, Draco leaned back in his chair and stared at Harry, something it seemed he could not stop doing tonight. "Molly still hasn't returned our daughter, I see," he commented, taking a sip from his glass.

"No," Harry murmured as he looked at her empty seat. "I love Ayida dearly and I know you must want to see her, but I really will have to thank Molly for keeping her so long tonight. I think I needed something like this."

Draco was saved the necessity of replying by a voice calling for Harry from the Floo. Harry went to answer it with a fleeting brush of fingertips at Draco's neck. Draco shivered, goose bumps running from his neck to his toes. It was minutes before Harry's return and when he did it was with a restrained smile. "Molly has just informed me that Ayida was very tired from their day out and refused to be brought home. She marched herself up to her room and put herself to bed at the Burrow."

"How convenient," Draco replied with a wry smile and stood. "That gives us a prime opportunity and I suggest we do not pass it up."

"What?" Harry inquired suspiciously.

"Well… we have had fine food, wine, and music. Now we shall have to accompany the music with a dance, no?"

"Draco, I'm not much of a dancer."

"You danced with me at our wedding, didn't you?"

"That was different. That was a special occasion."

Draco smiled. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "It was, but so is this… so is tonight."

It did not seem as though Harry really understood why tonight was so special, but he seemed to quickly put it into his own frame of reference. They were here, they were together, and Draco was not, for once, pushing Harry away. The two men moved together just as a new song started and Draco contentedly pressed his cheek against Harry's. "We can just sway or turn in circles if you like," Draco murmured, "Just as long as we're moving together."

"Anything is fine," Harry replied. "Lead and I'll follow."

Smiling, Draco lazily moved them in a simple dance, though they kept as close as possible and Draco soon shut his eyes to enjoy the warmth of Harry's body against his own. A warm fire and cup of tea indeed, he thought lazily and made a note to thank Black for the suggestion later. Within moments of that thought, however, Draco's mind drifted away from him and it transported him to another place and time.

_It was a beautiful day. Crowds of people were dancing, laughing, drinking, and talking. Draco, himself was in the arms of the person he loved most dearly in the world. They were dancing and he thought he had never been so happy. He looked down at his left hand and smiled at the ring which was glowing so brightly upon his finger. It was his wedding day, he thought dazedly, and Harry Potter was his forever. Draco pulled a little away from his dancing partner and smiled happily at him. Harry's face must have mirrored his own soppy expression because someone shouted for them to get a room. "We can hex Seamus later," Harry promised and then snogged Draco properly. _

Slowly, Draco opened his eyes to find that he was still dancing with Harry in the dining room. The lazy dancing had slowed down into an even lazier swaying motion. That dizzying elated emotion was still with him from the memory and he pulled back from Harry to look at him. He had obviously aged since that day…. They had both been so young when they married, but Draco… well, he could not help but feel his chest explode with happiness as he looked at Harry.

Harry blinked at him questioningly. "What is it?"

"Did we ever get to hex Seamus?"

"What are you on abo…." Harry trailed off, a sort of hope blooming upon his face. "Why would you say that?"

"I just remembered you promised we would hex him later when he kept heckling us at our wedding. Then we snogged. A lot."

"Our wedding," Harry whispered reverently. "You remember that?"

"I remember dancing with you. I remember feeling happier than at any other time of my life. I remember Seamus yelling at us to get a room." Draco blinked a couple times. "How in the world does Pansy put up with that git? I'll never understand how that couple came about."

Shaking himself, Draco smiled again at Harry, but his smile was quickly wiped away when he caught the look on Harry's face. His eyes were squinting, and his lips were pressed firmly together. It looked as though he was either trying not to sneeze or cry. "Harry?" Draco inquired softly. Harry weakly pushed away from Draco and pulled out the nearest chair and all but collapsed onto it with a strangled sob.

"I'm sorry," Harry said thickly, his head bent. Draco fell to his knees in front of the other man, but still he could not catch the look on Harry's face. "I'm trying so bloody hard to make this work, Draco. I am." His breathing became laboured as if hyperventilating, but he quickly recovered, though he was still breathing deeply.

"I know, Harry. I know that."

"No! You don't bloody well know a damn thing, do you, Draco?" Harry's head flew up and Draco reared back. There were tears welling in Harry's eyes. "You haven't been here! I've lived without you for four years. I thought you were fucking _dead_! Now you're back but it doesn't really matter anyway, because you don't remember anything. You don't remember our first kiss, the way you proposed, our wedding… you don't even remember our fights. You don't remember how you made me bloody miserable before we decided to have a child. You don't remember how you made me… you made me happy even when you made me miserable."

His head dropped again as he fell silent. Draco was at a loss for something to say. He hardly dared to touch him. This outburst was so sudden and yet, Draco felt he should have expected it. Soon, Harry's shoulders were shaking, though he made an attempt to keep his sobs inaudible. Draco heard Harry's voice break through in tremulous moans and Draco could feel his heart breaking.

"I'm supposed to be okay with this," Harry said after his breakdown had subsided to a manageable level. "I know I am. Everybody tells me I have to be okay and to give you time. I want to be okay with it. But I'm not okay with it. _I'm_ not okay. Draco, I'm not okay and I'm sorry. Part of me just wants to tell you to leave and not come back until you know what you want. The other part wants desperately for you to stay and stay forever. I'm trying to make room for the other part that needs to be there for you, but there's no room. I'm so tired, Draco, of pretending to be fine. I can't pretend anymore. I'm not fine. If you don't want to stay with me right now then you need to leave to figure it out because you've got my right foot in cold water and the left in hot. I don't know what to do any more because I figure by now you're either in love with me or you're not."

"You think it's that simple?" Draco asked quietly.

"I don't believe anything is simple anymore."

"Then you should try to understand that my feelings for you are not quite so simple."

"I just want to know what you feel about me, Draco. Right now."

The words Harry wanted to hear were so close in coming, but Draco could not quite muster the strength to utter them. It was not as though he was uncertain of his feelings really. No, he was beyond sure, especially after the night they had just shared, that he was totally and completely in love with this man. It was also true, however, that his feelings were not so simple. He did not feel comfortable telling Harry that he loved him. Not yet. Besides, he just did not want the words to be said in a tense situation like this. The words would seem so contrived, so lame. And Draco did not want to sound contrived in a moment that he wanted to mean so much to both of them. As soon as he said it, Draco knew that there was no turning back. They would be together, and he wanted it to be better than this. When he had become an old romantic, he was not sure.

"I can see we have been going about this all wrong," Draco replied slowly and Harry looked up at him, having been looking down the whole time.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not the only one who needs healing and I didn't see that, Harry. I was foolish for not understanding completely your point of view. I didn't know how much you've been hurting, but I see it now." Draco grasped his hand. "I don't fancy leaving just now, Harry. I think that at this point it would be better if we tried giving healing together a go. For once, we should also try walking in each other's shoes."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It was more of a demand than a question. Besides, I'm not ready to give an answer. I know my answer, but I think we need each other right now to get better without that getting in the way." Harry made a face at this and Draco knew what he was thinking. "I didn't say I was leaving you once we get better."

"No, you didn't. But how do you know it wouldn't help us if I knew how you feel?"

"I don't know, but I see it as our best shot right now. Besides, Harry, it probably won't be long before I'm so tired of seeing you give me those big, round puppy eyes and give you my answer."

"I don't give puppy eyes," Harry automatically responded.

Draco smiled and gently wiped away a tear from Harry's cheek. "You do," he murmured.

Harry sighed and pulled Draco's hand away. "You'll want to see Ayida," he stated and stood. With a quick wave of his wand, their dishes vanished from the table. "I think Wednesday would be fine if you wanted to come and pick her up for the day."

"That's five days away," Draco replied.

"Yes," Harry turned and crossed his arms. Draco blinked at him in confusion. "Is there a problem?"

"Actually, yes there is. It's too far. I want to see you both before then."

Harry continued to stand obstinately, now avoiding Draco's eyes. "Well. Do you have another suggestion?" he asked rigidly.

For a moment, Draco thought before refocusing on Harry with a bright smile. "I want Ayida to see Malfoy Manor. She is, after all, my only heir and will be inheriting it one day. She should see it. I want you to come as well."

"I have no desire to see Malfoy Manor," Harry said bluntly. "I have seen it before and it didn't appeal to me then."

Though Draco guessed Harry had a reason for it, his answer stung and he took a small step back. "Well," he answered hesitantly. "Perhaps… it will appeal to you more now… under different ownership."

When no answer was forthcoming, Draco sighed. "Please come. I've made changes, small changes, but I can't really feel my father's presence there any more if that is what bothers you."

"This is what I mean, Draco," Harry finally said tiredly. "You can't even remember why I wouldn't want to go the manor, why I wouldn't want to see you there. I don't want to explain everything to you. I'm tired of this."

Again Draco took a step back. He stared at Harry for a few moments before turning slowly around to leave. When he was at the door, he turned his head. "Then it's safe to say then that you really don't want to ever hear how I feel about you. Because if you can't live with the fact that I can't remember everything, and perhaps never will remember everything, then you don't really want to be with me, do you?"

Harry stepped forward. "That's not what I said."

"That's what I heard."

"Draco, please. I'm sorry. It came out wrong then. I just meant that I want you back. I want you to get better… hell, why wouldn't I? Draco…" he sighed. "Please, I'll come to the manor with Ayida. Two days from now? Are you busy?"

Draco shook his head and looked down. "Come for lunch. If it's nice, we'll have a picnic."

"Ayida will like that. Are you angry?"

"No. I'm tired too. I should go home."

Taking Draco by surprise, Harry had moved towards him and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist from behind. "Don't leave if you're upset." Draco turned in his arms and pressed their cheeks together.

"I'm fine if you're fine."

With Harry's nod, Draco gave a weak smile.

"I didn't mean it," Harry reiterated. "Not like that."

"I believe you," Draco murmured and gently kissed him. "I should go."

Harry nodded again. "I'll get your clothes." After changing, Draco left with a heavy heart, but the need to find that ring was burning through him again. He had a lot to do in a day before Harry brought Ayida and there was no sense in waiting for tomorrow.

The following day, Draco started awake in the early morning hours. Upon opening his curtains, he found that the sun had yet to rise over the horizon, but he knew he could do little to fall back asleep. After all, he had had enough trouble falling asleep, and in waking so early, had received a scant few hours of rest.

The cause of his insomnia this night was Harry. This whole situation was becoming too emotional for the both of them and Draco could not fathom how much longer Harry could hold up. He was already beginning to show extreme strain, and Draco, who was under the very same strain (although was only now beginning to realise that they were experiencing much the same emotions and confusion), could do nothing now but empathize.

After the events of the previous evening, Draco felt that he and Harry had finally arrived at an impasse. Though Harry would undoubtedly continue to put on a brave face, Draco knew he did not want to keep going with the whole charade if Draco did not know what he wanted. They could move no further together if they remained in this odd limbo with one another. And after last night, Draco was sure. He could not risk losing Harry. Not again. He wanted to move forward and he wanted Harry to finally be happy. It scared him… it absolutely _terrified_ Draco to think of marriage, but he loved Harry and that was the bottom line.

So, with his very determined mindset, Draco commandeered all of his remaining house-elves as soon as he stepped from his room and set them to work. If Harry disliked Malfoy Manor so much as it was, he would change it… or he would, at the very least, change the rooms Harry would undoubtedly see tomorrow. There would be no trace of either Narcissa or Lucius within the house. After he had sent every house elf scurrying but one, Draco returned to his room, commanding the last one to follow him.

"Bipsy," he addressed it as he rummaged through his wardrobe, "I want you in charge of this whole project. I want you to find the best Wizarding designer to be found in Britain and bring him or her to the Manor. Offer them twice the amount of money they would normally charge and tell them that I want the foyer, sitting and dining room, my father's office – I want it for my office – my mother's room, and the library refurnished by this evening. I want to see full results and refined taste, and I want nothing that looks like my parents possessions, got it?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy," Bipsy bopped his head up and down frantically.

Draco hung his selected robes on the outside of his wardrobe before turning to the house elf. "I have noticed that our old gardener has not been here."

"No, Master Malfoy, sir. Mistress Malfoy fired him a year ago for stealing. Bipsy is catching him doing it, sir."

Draco nodded briskly. "Good, good…. I suspect one of the house elves has been keeping the garden then?" At Bipsy's nod, Draco continued. "Then after you find a designer, please begin looking for a new gardener to employ, though spring is yet to come and I would like to help screen the prospectives. Now… I want you to run me a bath and when I'm through, I want breakfast ready."

"Yes, Master Malfoy," Bipsy agreed and hurried into the room's adjoining bathroom. Draco waited where he was thinking, silently pleased with his progress already. The house elves were quickly cleaning and helping out the new designer by ridding the rooms of anything Lucius or Narcissa had purchased. Luckily, these were highly outnumbered by the heirlooms spread throughout the house and he was hardly going to rid the manor of these items.

"The bath is ready, sir," Bipsy reappeared, bowing so low his nose touched the floor.

"Very well. One more thing, Bipsy, tomorrow my daughter and husband will be visiting the manor. I want everything to be in top order and I expect them to be treated just as you treat me. They are my family and as such, they are Malfoys."

Bipsy's eyes went large. "Oh, Master Malfoy has nothing to be afraid of!" he exclaimed. "Bipsy will welcome the new Master and Mistress Malfoy! Oh yes! Bipsy has much to do!" he continued to cry out even as he disappeared with a pop.

With a satisfied smile, Draco went to take his bath.

Just in time for lunch that day, Draco arrived at Hogwarts once more. He had caught Black in his office just after breakfast and they agreed to meet for lunch. Draco knew he had only just spoken to Black the previous day about Harry's ring, but he was much too impatient to set things right again. He _needed_ to find that ring.

Black greeted him with a beaming smile and gestured for him to take a seat. "Sirius," Draco nodded and hung his cloak delicately over a hook behind the door. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you."

"Not at all," Black assured him as he resumed his seat behind his desk. "For once I have been ahead of myself and I finished my grading this morning."

"So," Draco began hesitantly. "You are not engaged in anything for the remainder of the day?"

Black's smile returned though it was dampened slightly. "You're anxious to get that ring, aren't you?"

Letting out a long breath, Draco nodded. He could feel his cheeks tinting pink. "I've come to some final conclusions. And yesterday… well, yesterday I could tell Harry is tired of this whole affair and I would like to do something about it. I don't mean to push your progress, Sirius, but I really want to begin looking."

Black had smiled throughout Draco's small speech and continued doing so as he opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He proceeded to pour them each a glass and he did not speak until they had each taken a drink.

"It is rather lucky for you then that I already visited the Ministry last night after you left, and even luckier that I have such close friends within the Auror department."

"You gained clearance to wherever you want to look then?" Draco asked, his eyes lighting.

"Oh yes," Black agreed, taking a long drink from his glass. "And I'll certainly take you there, but only after we have eaten."

Only a highly toned sense of decorum made Draco eat slowly. The two men ate within the office, tended to by a house elf smaller than Draco had ever seen, but Black seemed taken with the small creature that he called Big. Draco could not decide if it was a joke because the elf could not have risen higher than their knees. Finally, after much anticipation on Draco's part, Black rose from his chair and summoned both of their cloaks. Wordlessly, they left the office and made fairly quick progress to the gates of Hogwarts. Once outside the gates, Black grasped Draco's arm and Disapparated.

They appeared outside a large house. It had a very old feeling to it, made of stone and magic creeping from every crack. Wizards had lived here since its creation and Draco could not help the small gasp that escaped his lips. "This is Theodore Nott's house. You think it's here?"

"Well, this is where Harry was found," Black replied, as he unsheathed his wand from his sleeve and proceeded to wave it about. Draco listened to him intone the many complicated spells, his mind carefully blank. "All right?" Black asked once he had his wand away. He was looking at Draco warily.

"Yes," he said slowly. "It's just… well, Harry never has explained what happened here. And I, I don't remember doing what he said I did… to Nott."

"Perhaps it's for the better," Black sighed and motioned Draco to follow him. "That memory can't be a very happy one."

"All the same," Draco murmured and followed Black into the house.

Draco kept his eyes averted from everything in the house that would remind him of the days he had spent here as a child, playing with Nott. The back of Black's head provided his distraction, and he knew Black was saying something, perhaps only muttering to himself, but Draco found he could not listen. "In here," Black's voice raised as he seemed to find the room he was looking for.

Entering the room as if there might be a threat from within, Draco kept silent as he finally lifted his eyes and surveyed their surroundings. They were in a study, and though Draco could not remember ever entering this room as a child, something about it seemed to be very familiar to him. He had been here before and it had not been too long ago.

_Probably about four years ago_, his mind quietly supplied to him.

After a few moments, Draco took a few halting steps forward. He cursed himself inwardly, drew a deep breath and continued more steadily into the oppressive room. The very air felt heavy with unhappy memories and Dark magic. It felt to Draco as if the feeling slowed his footsteps, breathing, and thinking. Black seemed unaffected. He was already rummaging through the drawers at the desk, a determined sort of set to his face. Suddenly, Draco was very thankful for him. For a moment, Black stopped sifting through the drawers and took a harsh sniff and then shivered.

"Damp, this house is," he muttered, continuing his progress through the desk. Draco nodded in agreement as he looked around. The walls were covered in books, and they still looked as if they were all in order, probably never to be disturbed until the Ministry released the property to the Wizarding world. Draco followed the line of books to his right and squinted when he noticed a place in the shelves where the books were askew. His eyesight went to the floor and he gasped quietly. There was a wizard slumped on the floor. Draco took a step closer.

He was dead.

Blinking, Draco looked to Sirius who was now casting spells at various objects and obvious hiding places. Draco turned back to the dead wizard and gasped again. He was gone. Swallowing thickly and feeling suddenly nauseous, Draco moved to one of the couches and sat heavily at the end. He did not realise that he had closed his eyes until Black snapped his fingers in front of his face. "All right, Draco?"

"Yeah," Draco murmured. "This room… it's just oppressive." He blinked a few times. "I'm just going to rest for a moment. I feel a bit dizzy."

As soon as he said it, a new wave of vertigo washed over him and he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Black moved reluctantly away to continue the search. Of course, Draco recognised this dizziness. He had felt it plenty of times in the past few weeks, but Severus had been so hopeful that the potion had neutralized his blood… if even just a little. Draco felt nearly as bad as he had at the Wizarding Transportation Centre before he had admitted to himself that he loved Harry. The dead wizard he had seen… it had to have been a memory, Draco reasoned. He did not want to believe that he was finally losing it.

"I'm going through this door, Draco," Black called. "I think this is where they kept Harry, so it may be there. If you need anything, give a shout, all right?"

Draco gave a weak nod, cracking one eye open to see Black disappear through a door. As soon as the other man was out of sight, a movement caught his eye and he jerked up in his seat. Theodore Nott was sitting on the couch across from him, his face unwelcoming and just a little nervous. A man with brown hair and unremarkable facial features sat beside Nott, and he was staring at Draco raptly. "_What of the baby?_" the stranger inquired, biting his lip. Draco felt himself answer: "_Dead. That's what they say anyway. Tiada miscarried and now is missing._" The strange wizard looked down, seemingly stricken by the news.

Gasping for breath in order to stave off a bout of nausea, Draco shook his head and looked again at the couch in front of him. It was empty. Suddenly, wave after wave of vertigo washed over Draco and he shot forward and retched at his feet. He came up minutes later, cold sweat dripping down his forehead and drawing in gasping breaths. "Sirius," he tried calling for him, but it came out a hoarse croak. "Sirius, I need… need Severus."

With one more gasping breath, Draco collapsed to his side, welcoming the darkness that claimed him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Chapter fifteen is in progress. I think this is the first time throughout the entire series that my posting of chapters has finally caught up to my writing. Not good. I am doing my best to finish it, but I don't know when it will be. Even if it kills me, I will finish this fic, because I think it would be about time for me to finish this series.

Anyway, I would appreciate a review, good or bad, I can take it. Thanks for reading and please be patient. I have every intention of finishing this fic!


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